I Didn't Know I Missed You Until I Knew You'd Been
by embrace-the-deception
Summary: Gone. That's the full title. Sam and Dean were split up as kids. They meet again in high school, where a dark secret will hopefully bring a broken family together and not completely destroy them. AU, rated for violence, abuse, swearing, etc. COMPLETE
1. First Day Back

**I Didn't Know I Missed You Until I Knew You'd Been Gone.**

**This is an AU story. Mary never died in the fire. In fact, there was no fire. John and Mary fought the supernatural together. But then it started to get to hard, with two young children to look after as well. After a long fight, the two split, each taking one of the children with them. The brothers grew up not knowing about each other, but nothing lasts. Now, Dean meets a young Sam and they become friends, not knowing they are actually brothers. But there is also a darker secret that will soon come to the surface.**

**There is no slash, but there is violence, abuse and swearing, hence the T rating. Don't read if you don't like that sort of stuff or can't handle it.**

**I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters.**

**Please read and review, I love all of them and I want to improve!**

Dean glanced around, leaning against the wall next to the door. He watched the kids enter the school, his eyes quickly sweeping over them and making observations. Most of the kids he knew from his previous few months at the school. Some of them were friends, others not so much, and still others he'd only seen and never talked to. A few of the kids looked up at him as they passed by, either in acknowledgement or, with some of the newer kids, in almost fear. Dean chuckled and spread his gaze to encompass the rest of the school yard. Most of the kids were out there, talking, messing around with friends they hadn't seen in a while. It was the first day back of the second semester, and many of the kids had gone out of town over the holidays.

Dean caught sight of one boy walking across the yard, head down and watching the ground in front of him, as if making sure he didn't trip. A couple of the kids glanced at him as he passed but none spoke to him. When he reached the door, he didn't even seem to notice the tall, muscular seventeen-year-old leaning next to it. Dean cleared his throat, and the kid started, glancing up with shocked brown eyes. Almost instantly his eyes widened as he took in the kid in front of him, and he looked away down towards the ground. Dean raised his eyebrows. It looked like he was trying to seem small, non-threatening, weak even. The teenager held back a laugh.  
"I don't think I've seen you around before," he said "What's your name?"  
The kid mumbled something Dean couldn't hear. When the teenager didn't reply, the younger looked up and spoke with more volume.  
"Sam."  
"You're new here I guess?"  
"Yeah," Sam looked down at the ground again, and Dean wondered why he kept doing that. His curiosity piqued, he pushed himself off the wall and stood to his full height. He realised the kid wasn't actually that much shorter than him. He wondered how old he was.  
"You need any help?" Dean figured he could find out more about the kid if talked to him more, but Sam looked like he wanted nothing more than to run away or sink into the ground.  
"Uh..." Sam looked like he was going to refuse, but he obviously thought better of it "Yeah, actually. I need to go sign up or something."  
"Sure, I'll show you where to go," Dean said, gesturing for the younger kid to go inside. He did so quickly, stepping lightly and carefully. Once again, Dean's mind searched for a 'why'.

As the pair walked down the relatively empty halls, Dean looked down at the kid. He was staring at the floor again as he walked, shoulder length brown hair shading his eyes from view.  
"So where're you from?" Dean asked conversationally.  
"Originally? Kansas. But I move around a lot lately. Since I turned ten and my mum got married, she started a new job that means she has to move a lot. I haven't lived in the same place for more than four months," Sam said.  
Dean raised an eyebrow, for more than one reason. It'd been the most Sam had said so far. The fact he hailed from Kansas was interesting; he did too. And the moving around was also intriguing.  
"I move around a lot too. Dad's job," Dean said, watching for the boy's reaction.  
The kid looked up, interest shining in his eyes. He made eye contact for longer than half a second, which was a record, Dean noted.  
"What's he do?"  
This was the tricky part. Dean knew what he was supposed to say, and it had always been easy to lie, but somehow lying to this kid was just... impossible. Almost. Dean blinked and repeated the words he told everyone who asked him the same question.  
"Loads of stuff. He doesn't have one job he sticks to. Comes into town, takes whatever's available, then heads off and finds another one."  
"That must suck," Sam said, giving the response Dean always got from his answer.  
"Not really. It's fun. Never in one place too long, always somewhere new and different. And it's just me and my dad, so it's even better," Dean smiled.  
Sam muttered something under his breath. Dean strained to hear it, but couldn't.  
"What was that?" he asked.  
"Nothing," Sam kept his eyes to the ground.

"Well, school's gonna start any minute now," Dean said as they came up to the administration's office "You'd better hurry up."  
Sam nodded and walked over to one of the ladies behind the desk. She asked him his name and age.  
"Sam Wesson," he said quietly "I'm thirteen."  
"Ah, Wesson. Yes, we've got..."  
Dean turned to leave, but stopped when he heard a voice call out.  
"Hey, uh... see ya...?" the sentence ended with a slight question.  
"Dean," he said, raising his hand then walking away as the bell rung.

**So what do you think? Read and review please! Also, I'm not American and I don't know much about the schools and stuff. JSYK**


	2. After School Talks

**Here's the next chapter for ya! Hope you're all enjoying it! I certainly am :D **

**Please read and review! I'd love to improve and also know that people are reading it :) Thanks much to those who r&r or even just read**

As the final bell rung, Dean stood up and was out the door before anyone, surprisingly fast considering he'd been almost asleep for the entire lesson. Maths wasn't the most interesting subject he'd had to sit through, and he never listened. Luckily his dad didn't overly care what grades he got, as long as he didn't get in trouble. Getting in trouble at his age meant the cops got involved, and the cops were not what the Winchesters needed.

Dean raced out of the school, pushing past people who were crowding the hallways. At last he reached the door and burst out, sighing in relief. Monday was over. That just meant another four days to go. He groaned. His dad wasn't anywhere near finished the hunt he was on. The damn creature kept moving from town to town, always in the same general area, which meant he had to stay at the school until it was killed. It'd been over month since his father had picked up the case, and it didn't look like it was going to be closed anytime soon.

He started to walk away from the school and down the street passing a few of the kids on the way. He saw Sam walking ahead of him, and jogged to catch up.  
"Hey, how was your first day?" he asked, pulling up to a walk beside the younger boy.  
"The answer my parents wanna hear? It was awesome. I made loads of friends and everyone likes me."  
He didn't look up as he spoke. Dean smirked; the kid was either a sarcastic smartass or just grumpy. He couldn't tell.  
"What's the honest answer?"  
"My day was crap. Everyone seems to have it out for me, and I don't fit in whatsoever. And apparently I did something to piss one of the older guys off because now he's out to get me," Sam raised his hands and air-quoted the last four words. Dean laughed. Definitely sarcastic.  
"I wouldn't worry so much about those guys. They're all really bitchy girls at heart, mainly concerned over what their hair looks like or what dress their wearing to the prom," Dean chuckled.  
That got a smile from Sam, just visible from behind the hair that hid his downcast face.  
"How interesting is it?" Dean asked.  
"What?"  
"The ground."  
Sam didn't smile at that, and looked up slowly. Although his head wasn't facing the ground anymore, Sam kept his eyes looking down to his left, away from Dean.  
"It may not be interesting, but at least it's safe."

Dean frowned, not understanding at all. He opened his mouth to ask when Sam stopped walking. He looked directly at the older kid, looked him right in the eye.  
"I gotta go this way," he said, pointing down one road "See you tomorrow at school. Maybe."  
Sam turned and walked away. Dean stared, his brain struggling to understand what had just happened. He didn't move for a moment, just watching Sam's back as the kid disappeared down the street. But eventually he shook his head and continued walking towards his own home.

**/\/\**

"Dad, I'm back," Dean yelled as he slammed the door shut.  
"As if I couldn't tell by the slamming door," a voice called back from the vague direction of the kitchen. Dean headed over.  
"What's up? You found anything?" he asked.  
His dad was sat at the table, going over some news reports, some internet pages, and a few other things. He looked up when Dean entered.  
"Not much. Nothing I don't already know," John said.  
"So we're still stuck here? And I still have to go to school?" Dean whined, sitting down heavily across from his father. John looked back to his papers.  
"Yes Dean, you do. You know I'd take you with me..."  
"Like you usually do."  
"But this thing is dangerous. More dangerous than anything I've even encountered before. You're staying put until I finish it off," John finished as if his son hadn't spoken.  
"Do you even know what it is yet?" Dean asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"Not yet."  
Dean sighed.  
"Speaking of school, how was your first day back?" John looked up and smiled.  
Dean rolled his eyes, "It was awesome dad. Just great. As per usual."  
John laughed, and went back to work. Dean was silent for a moment.  
"Although..." he started. John glanced up briefly.  
"There was this new kid. He seems okay. His name's Sam. Don't know much about him, but I do know that we're pretty alike. He moves around a lot for his mum's job, he's from Kansas, and he's a smartass. I have to admit, he's a little weird. Weird but cool."  
John looked at his son with his 'What's going on' look.  
"That's the most I've ever heard you say about anyone since you were eight," John said.  
"So?"  
"Nothing. Why don't you head up to your room or something?"  
Dean knew an evasion tactic when he saw one. He didn't move and stared at his father.  
"What?" he asked.  
"Dean."  
That was enough. The tone of his father's voice made Dean realise his father was serious. He shrugged and stood up. He walked away, heading towards his room of the rented flat. He didn't see his father look up and watch him as he went, memories playing behind clouded eyes.

**/\/\**

"Mum? I'm home," Sam called as he entered.  
"Hey sweetheart!" his mother said, walking into the hall of the rented flat and smiling. She hugged her son, blonde hair tumbling from her badly-tied ponytail. She pulled back and started to fix it.  
"How was school?" she asked.  
"Alright."  
"Make any friends?"  
"I guess so."  
Mary sighed, a small smile on her face. She watched as her son moved to walk up the stairs to his room.  
"I'm going to be out tonight, working," Mary said.  
Sam froze, but nodded. He glanced at his mother.  
"When are you going to be back? Is Jason going to be here?" he asked.  
"Sam," Mary said, only half-scolding "Jason and I have been married for four years. You can call him Dad if you want. And I'll probably be back around midnight, but maybe later. You'll be asleep at any rate."  
_You'd be surprised_ Sam thought darkly, heading up the stairs again and into his room. As he opened the door to his room, someone bumped into him, almost knocking him over. He looked up to see his stepfather, Jason, staring down at him.  
"Sorry," Sam said, keeping his voice low although he knew that with his mother home he was relatively safe.  
Jason sneered, and headed down the stairs. Sam swallowed and quickly darted into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

**So what do you think? Chapter three will be up soon. Yay for cliffhangers and suspense!**


	3. Got Into A Fight or Two

**Here's the next chapter! Hope you like it :D It's a lot longer than the other two, JSYK. Anyway, enjoy!**

The next day at school, Dean found himself looking out for Sam. He saw him just before the bell went, walking slowly towards the school, his feet dragging. Dean called out. Sam didn't look up, but walked towards him. Dean instantly noticed he was walking differently. There was a limp that looked only very slight; it was hidden very well. He also noticed the edge of a purplish-yellow bruise on his upper arm mostly covered by his t-shirt. Dean frowned.  
"What's up?' he asked.  
"Nothing."  
Sam seemed to be trying to bore a hole in the ground with his eyes. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and Dean suspected they were hidden for a reason.  
"You don't look good. You sure you're alright?"  
He didn't get an answer, as the bell rang out and Sam darted off. Dean stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and going to class. Sam Wesson was certainly a mystery.

**/\/\**

As the bell rang for lunch, Dean was once again out the door before anyone. The teacher just sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do to make Dean Winchester pay attention in class. It was just that he didn't care. He didn't care if he failed classes or assignments, which he often did. It was a terror trying to teach him anything. He'd just sit up the back and make smartass comments whenever she called on him to answer a question. She'd learned to stop asking.

Dean wandered down the crowded hallways, pushing past people who got in his way. He was heading for the outside, where at least he could get some fresh air before he choked to death on all this stifling _normalcy_. He hated it. He wasn't normal and he knew it. He didn't see the point in pretending he was.  
The teenager glanced up when he heard a familiar voice calling out over the chattering of the other students. Almost immediately everyone fell silent, their gazes moving to the tall muscular teen about Dean's age, his arms folded against his chest and looking pretty cocky. He was looking down at some younger, smaller kid. Dean frowned when he saw Sam there, just staring at the ground the way he usually did. Damn. If Sam had said it was Darren that he'd pissed off, he would have told him to scared. The guy was one of the toughest kids in the school besides Dean. If you got in Darren Harding's way, you usually ended up going home with bruises the size of the United States. Only Dean had been able to stand up to him, and since then the two boys stayed out of each other's way.

"Hey, pipsqueak," Darren was saying with a grin. His friends behind him snorted with what Dean thought was pretty air-headed laughter. Honestly, the guy's had no brains.  
Sam ignored him, and started to walk away.  
"Hey, don't ignore me, midget!" Darren yelled.  
Sam stopped, and Dean saw him shaking. He turned slowly, keeping his eyes to the ground.  
"What?" the younger kid asked with as much bravery as he could muster, although ruined at the end by a waver in his voice.  
"You talking back to me?" Darren asked challengingly, walking towards Sam. The kid cringed, and ducked his head. A snigger passed through the crowd of students.  
"Thought not. You're lucky I don't bash your head in, squirt. I usually do that to people who piss me off or make me mad," Darren pushed Sam backwards, making the younger kid fall on his ass. People laughed out loud.  
Dean growled lowly. He wasn't one to mess with Darren. It'd get him in trouble, and his father would kill him. But this time he was just going too far. Usually the guy would just push around the kids in his year and maybe a year below. But Sam was a good four years younger, as well as shorter and weaker in strength.  
"Hey Darren, you moved on from picking on guys your own size? Did they hit back? I guess the younger kids are easier targets," Dean called, stepping out from the crowd but staying on the fringe. Everyone turned to stare at the defiant teen for a moment, before glances flicked back and forth between him and the guy he had just insulted. Darren looked at him and smirked.  
"Why don't you just stay out of this Winchester? Ain't none of your business," Darren snarled.  
"You just don't want to face someone who can have you on the floor in five seconds, crying your eyes out like the girl you are," Dean challenged.  
Darren seemed to forget about Sam and moved towards Dean. They were about the same height, so they glared at each other from a few paces away, each one waiting for the other to speak.  
"You're protecting that girl?" Darren sneered, jerking his thumb at Sam, still sprawled on the floor "What's he to you?"  
Dean shrugged, and before he could answer something spread across Darren's face, something that made Dean frown. It was a mix between realisation and glee.  
"I knew it. Can't believe I didn't see it before. Although it's a little weird. I mean, he _is_ four years younger than you, right?"  
Dean snarled as he realised what Darren was implying. The crowd started to laugh, some pointed and snickered and Darren's friends chuckled darkly.  
"I would've thought you were the gay one Darren. You are the one who only picked on guys your own age..." Dean trailed off suggestively.  
He could feel his foothold slipping. Nobody was listening, they were too busy laughing at him. He growled. If he attacked Darren now it would just look like the bully was getting to him, that it was true. He couldn't let that happen. He had no idea how long it was going to be before he could leave. It could be months. And he was _not_ going to spend the next few months in a school that thought he was gay. He frowned, torn between helping Sam and walking away to save what little pride he had left. In his head he could hear his father's voice.  
_"Dean, if someone needs your help you help them. It's as simple as that."  
"But what if you don't even know them? Why should you put yourself on the line for someone you don't even know?"  
"You help them Dean. That's our job; to hunt down the bad guys and save the good ones. Even if you don't know them. It doesn't matter how you do it, as long as, at the end of the day, you've done your job."_

Dean swallowed, and pushed past Darren. The kid laughed as Dean walked over to Sam and held out a hand.  
"Come on," he said.  
The kid hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Dean's hand. Dean pulled him up and started to walk away. The crowd parted for him, still laughing. Flushing red, Dean kept his head down as he and Sam walked away, Darren's voice echoing in his ears.  
"I never thought Winchester was gay!" the delight in his voice was obvious. He'd found a way to hurt Dean without physically doing anything. Hitting the Winchester would have the bully on the floor in seconds, arm twisted painfully behind his back. He'd learned his lesson. This way, Dean couldn't fight back.

"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," Sam muttered as they walked down the considerably clear hall. Dean just grunted in response.  
"I'm sorry," Sam said.  
"Why? You didn't do anything," Dean replied, looking down.  
"Now everyone thinks you're gay. And it's my fault. Trust me, I know it's hard when everyone lies about you behind your back."  
Dean raised an eyebrow. There was another mystery about Sam. The kid was full of surprises.  
"Why did you help me anyway? You could have just left it alone."  
"No I couldn't."  
Sam didn't reply to that, and they walked in silence for a moment. Suddenly, Sam stopped and looked at Dean with that 'I'm looking at you but not directly' look, his eyes somewhat facing the floor.  
"Your name's Winchester?" he asked.  
"Yeah, why?" Dean asked.  
Sam paused, staring at Dean for a minute. Dean shrugged, wishing Sam would say something. It was creepy, him staring like that.  
"Nothing," Sam said, just as the bell to end lunch rang. He ran off, leaving Dean alone in the hallway, once again wondering about the younger boy's strange words and actions.

**You like? Please r&r! I'd love to hear your feedback!**


	4. I Was Thinking Of You

**Thanks to everyone who reviews and/or reads this, I really appreciate it! BTW, like I said earlier I'm not American, so if there's anything in any chapter that is wrong, please tell me, like the driver's license or whatever. Thanks! Enjoy!**

**Swearing and some abuse in this chapter, don't read it you don't like.**

Dean avoided people as best he could after school ended, keeping his head down and ignoring sniggers and comments. He felt like punching them, but knew it would get him nowhere. As he left the school building, he heard a familiar voice call his name from behind him. He stopped and turned to see Sam running up to him. He skidded to a stop beside the older teen.  
"You okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice. Dean smiled.  
"I'm fine, I can handle some comments," he replied.  
They walked away from the school together, mostly in silence, until they reached the fork in the road where Sam had disappeared last time. The pair stopped.  
"I should go," Sam said.  
The kid turned to go, and a thought suddenly came to Dean's mind.  
"Hey, uh, you wanna come over?" he asked.  
Sam looked at him, and Dean saw something in his eyes. Something that made him realise he'd said the right thing.  
"Really?" he sounded shocked.  
"Yeah, if your parents don't mind."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment. He was trying to process the fact that someone was being nice to him, was being a friend. He hadn't expected Dean to step in earlier during the fight, and he certainly hadn't expected this. He smiled a little, and pulled out his phone, forgetting the bruises that circled his wrists could now be seen. He called home and waited for his mother to pick up.  
"Hello?" a familiar voice said, and Sam froze. He felt the blood rush from his face and he blinked. He hadn't wanted to hear that voice.  
"Hey, uh, Jason..." he trailed off. He didn't want to piss him off, but he didn't want to lose Dean as a friend. Not when this was the first friend he'd had in years.  
"What do you want? You better not have gotten into trouble at school..."  
"No. I was gonna go over to a friend's place," Sam said, his voice shaky.  
"Like hell you are. You get your ass back here." Sam could tell from the slurred words that Jason was drunk, which meant his mother wasn't home and wouldn't be for quite some time.  
"I'll see you tonight then. I don't know when."  
"Sam..." the tone was low, warning, dangerous.  
He wasn't sure what had gotten into him. Just yesterday he wouldn't have defied his stepfather like he was now. But something had changed. Sam ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket, knowing with a growing sense of dread that when he eventually did make it home, the bruises he had today would be nothing compared to what he'd get tonight.

Dean tensed when he saw the thin purple-yellow bruises around Sam's wrist. Sam didn't seem to realise, and when he ended the call he shoved his hands back into his pockets, hiding the discolouration again.  
"Thanks," Sam said, breaking Dean out of his rambling musings of how Sam had gotten the bruises. He blinked.  
"For what?"  
"For helping me earlier. For letting me come over," Sam shrugged.  
Dean shook his head slightly with a small smile.  
"Come on," he said "Dad will get mad if I'm not home soon. Don't worry, you'll love him."  
He grinned, and Sam smiled.

**/\/\**

"Dad? I'm home!" Dean yelled as he let Sam in the door and shut it quietly.  
"What, no slamming doors today?" John called from the kitchen.  
"I've got a friend over," Dean said, knowing his father would understand the hidden warning and quickly get rid of anything to do with hunting. The scrabble he heard from the kitchen confirmed it.  
Dean showed Sam to the kitchen. John was making himself a coffee, looking almost normal.  
"Dad, this is Sam."  
John turned around slowly, and looked at Sam. The younger kid looked uncomfortable, and stared at the floor, shifting from foot to foot.  
"Nice to meet you Sam. Dean's said some pretty good things about you," John said, walking over and putting out his hand. Sam shook it.  
"Nice to meet you too Mr. Winchester," Sam replied, barely looking up.  
John chuckled, "Call me John."  
The tension in the room was so obvious and thick that Dean swallowed, and quickly ended the conversation with a 'see ya' to his dad, then steering Sam towards his room.

"You're dad's nice," Sam said as Dean shut the door.  
"Yeah, he's pretty cool," Dean sat down on the bed, stretching out and yawning. There was an awkward pause before Dean suddenly remembered something from earlier.  
"Who's Jason?" he asked casually.  
He watched as Sam flinched at the mention of the name and paled. The kid swallowed before replying.  
"He's my stepdad."  
"That must suck. Where's your real dad?" Dean asked, hoping it didn't sound like he was prying or bringing up stuff that was meant to stay down.  
"I don't know. I never knew him. Mum said that he disappeared when I was only a baby."  
"I know what you mean," Dean replied.  
"You do?"  
"My mum disappeared when I was four, nearly five. I can't really remember her. All I know was that she was blonde, and she was really nice. Dad doesn't like it when I talk about her though."  
Sam looked at the older teen with sympathy, and Dean squirmed, feeling uncomfortable. He leaned over and switched on his CD player. Eye of the Tiger started to play, and Sam rolled his eyes.  
"You listen to that stuff?" he asked, sitting down on the end of the bed.  
"Hell yeah. It's the best music ever created," Dean declared.  
"It's so... _old_."  
"Aww, you suck. This stuff is awesome. I bet you listen to girly crap," Dean smirked.  
"Do not."  
"I bet you do."  
"I do not!"  
Dean laughed, and started nodding his head in time to the beat. Sam chuckled. Dean grinned as a thought struck him. Sam was laughing. The quiet, shy, bore-a-hole-in-the-ground Sam was laughing.  
"What?" Sam asked.  
Dean shook his head, realising he'd been staring, "Nothing."

**/\/\**

It was ten o'clock by the time Sam remembered he should be at home. In the middle of the conversation on whether Darren was in fact gay, he stopped, looking worried.  
"What is it?" Dean asked.  
"I should get home. Jason would probably kill me if I stayed any longer," Sam said, standing up. There was no joking in his voice.  
"I'll drive you if you like," Dean said, standing.  
"You drive?"  
"'Course I do. Come on, Dad won't mind if I borrow the car," Dean grinned, showing Sam outside.

"Wow," Sam breathed when he saw the Winchester car.  
"I know, right? 1967 Chevy Impala, a beauty. Technically she's Dad's, but he lets me drive sometimes," Dean said, sliding a hand over driver's side door before getting in. Sam slid into the passenger seat, and Dean revved the engine, shooting off down the road.

**/\/\**

As Dean pulled up outside the place Sam had directed him to, he looked over to his friend. The kid was staring straight ahead, his jaw tightened, hand curling into and out of fists. He got out of the car and moved over to Dean's side.  
"Thanks," he said, then turned and headed for the block of flats. Dean waited for a moment before jumping out of the Impala and following. Sam didn't say anything as Dean walked beside him.

Stopping outside Sam's flat, Dean watched as Sam knocked on the door and waited, tense. The door opened a second later to reveal a man in his thirties, with short blonde hair and green eyes dulled by alcohol. Voices could be heard from inside, and Dean saw Sam tense even more, if that were possible.  
"Fucking hell Sam, what the fuck were you doing all night?" the man, who Dean assumed was Jason, drawled. Dean flinched at the strong smell of alcohol coming from the man.  
"I told you, I was at a friend's place. I lost track of time," Sam said, a shake in his voice that he seemed to be trying to control.  
"Well, bloody get inside," Jason snarled, grabbing Sam and pulling him into the flat.  
Just before he slammed the door shut, Jason noticed Dean standing there. He scowled.  
"Who the fuck are you?"  
"I'm Dean, Sam's friend," Dean said, trying to keep his anger under control. Right now he wanted to punch the guy's face in, watching the way he treated his stepson. He had a sneaking suspicion he now knew how Sam had gotten those bruises and the limp.  
"Well you can piss off. And Sam ain't going anywhere again, you hear me?" Jason yelled, aiming his comment at the teenager who was standing in the hallway behind him.  
Dean frowned and was about to say something when Jason slammed the door, shutting off the voices and leaving him standing there, confused and surprised. He considered banging on the door again, but wasn't sure what he should do. Maybe the bruises had been gotten another way. Maybe it was just because the guy was drunk he was acting like this. Dean sighed, and headed back to his car, his head swirling with thoughts and wondering what he should have done.

**/\/\**

Jason pushed Sam towards the living room. Two familiar men sat there, Jason's friends.  
"I think it's time you guys went home," Jason laughed, his hand on Sam's shoulder.  
It took a few minutes for Jason to convince his friends he was serious, and another five for them to actually leave. Sam stayed frozen in the living room as Jason showed his friends out. He flinched as the door slammed. Jason came back to Sam, who was staring at the rug he was standing on. Jason snarled.  
"I told you to come back!" he growled, back-handing his stepson across the face so hard the teenager fell to the ground with a thump. He didn't cry out.  
"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled.  
"You're sorry? You're not sorry. You'll be sorry when I'm done," Jason chuckled darkly, grabbing Sam by the hair and dragging him upwards. The kid gasped. Jason waited a moment before letting go. Sam was barely resting on his knees, and once Jason released his hold on his hair he tumbled back down onto hands and knees. For good measure the man kicked him hard in the stomach. Sam winced and collapsed onto his side.

He didn't move as he heard Jason walk away. He heard him walk up the stairs, and he knew what was coming. Sam blinked, knowing there was nowhere to go. Jason had locked the door as usual, and all the windows were unable to be opened. So he just lay still, breathing slowly, until Jason came back. Roughly, the man grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him to his knees. He pulled the teenager's hand behind his head and bound them there with wire, as he had done last night and many nights before. Sam didn't move, didn't make a sound. He knew there was no point. The more noise he made, the worse he would get.

Jason hauled Sam up, then threw him back down again. With his hands behind his head he couldn't stop himself from falling, and Sam hit the ground hard. The wire was pulled to bring him back onto his knees, the thin metal digging hard into his wrists. Sam swore silently. Jason just got more and more inventive as the years passed.  
Something connected with his back, pushing him forward. The wire was still being held in place, his hands were being pulled backwards while his chest was pushed forward. Sam's wrists screamed in protest as metal dug further into them under the pressure, drawing blood. Sam gasped, shocked. Jason had never drawn blood before. Only once, and his mother had been worried sick. He'd given the cover story of a fight at school, but Jason had almost been caught. Since then nothing he did ever broke the skin. It was easier to conceal. Sam closed his eyes as he felt Jason breathing into his ear, whispering to him.  
"Your stupid bitch of a mother is away for the rest of the week. Lucky you, eh? And she has no idea. I wish she'd leave more often."  
A tear involuntarily escaped and ran down Sam's cheek. He screwed up his eyes and tried to block out his stepfather's voice as Jason taunted him, kicking him and pushing him to the ground. He thought about tomorrow, thought about school, thought about getting through and making it to the next day. He thought of Dean, his new and only friend, and that was enough to keep him going as Jason punched and kicked, swore and taunted.

**What do you think? r&r! Hope you like it :D**


	5. Just Tell Me

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I love hearing what you think :D**

Dean kept an eye out for Sam the next morning. He felt guilty about leaving, but he still wasn't sure he hadn't done the right thing. Was it really his place to interfere in family affairs? He'd only known Sam for two days.  
His heart dropped and so did his stomach when he saw Sam. A cap was pulled down over his head, obscuring most of his face, but Dean could still recognised him. Bruises circled his upper arms, and the t-shirt only just covered them. His hands were deep into his pockets, and when he walked it was slow, like if he walked any faster he'd fall over. Dean, guilt washing over him, raced over, worried.  
"Hey Sam, you okay?" he asked, standing in front of the younger kid, forcing him to stop.  
"M'fine," Sam mumbled, keeping his head down as usual. Dean didn't move.  
"Look at me."  
Sam ignored him and tried to go around. Dean blocked him.  
"Sam, will you damn well look at me?"  
The kid stopped, frozen. Dean winced at his harsh tone, but it was what motivated Sam to look up.

Dean blinked. Most of Sam's face was shaded by the cap, but he could still see the black eye he had, and the thin cut along his jaw.  
"What happened?" Dean asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.  
"Nothing. I'm fine."  
"Sam, don't lie to me. Did he do that to you?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about. I fell down the stairs," Sam ducked his head again.  
Dean sighed, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous lie. No one would believe that. Quickly, before Sam could react, he grabbed Sam's arm and pulled it up. His hand left the pocket and Dean gasped.  
Thin red lines cut around his wrist, deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough to cause permanent damage. They'd started to scab, and looked extremely painful.  
"Holy crap Sam, you didn't do that by falling down some stairs," he said, letting go. Sam didn't reply or move. He just stood there, slipping his hand back into his pocket and staring at the ground. If he'd felt guilty before, Dean now felt it ten times worse.  
"What'd he do to you? God, I knew I shouldn't have..."  
"Look, it's nothing, okay?" Sam burst out, silencing Dean "Just leave me alone."  
Sam pushed Dean in the chest, making the shocked buy stumble backwards. He could only watch as Sam stormed off, horror blanketing him, surrounding him so he couldn't escape his guilt, only drown in it.

**/\/\**

Dean didn't see Sam for the rest of the day. When the final bell rang, Dean was out and searching for his friend as quickly as he could. He saw Sam heading down the road on his way home, and raced to catch up.  
"Sam..."  
"I said, leave me alone," Sam said quietly.  
"Come back to my place. Don't go home."  
"I can't."  
Dean was at a loss. He wanted to go back with Sam and bash the man until he was dead. Scum that beat up kids didn't deserve to live. When they reached the fork in the road and Sam went his own way without so much as a 'see ya', Dean just stood there and looked between both roads. For a good five minutes he wondered, until finally he turned and ran the rest of the way home.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, running through the house.  
John came out of the bathroom, looking at his son in confusion, "What's up?"  
"I need to talk to you."

Dean related the story to his father, the older man just listening. When he was finished, Dean sat back and waited for his father's reaction.  
John looked like he was going to be sick, and hung his head in his hands. He swore.  
"What are we supposed to do now?" Dean asked.  
John didn't reply for a moment, and just sat there in shock. Eventually he looked up.  
"We have to call someone. Child Protection or something."  
"That's it? We can't do anything ourselves?" Dean was angry, surprised.  
"It's not up to us," John sighed, standing up and reaching for the phone.

**/\/\**

An hour later, John knocked on his son's door. He heard him call out, so he entered.  
"Dean?"  
"What?"  
"I called. They're going to check it out tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow?" Dean stood up from his position of lounging on his bed "Who knows what he could have done by tomorrow!"  
"I can't do anything about it Dean. I hate the guy as much as you do."  
Dean snorted, and flopped back down on the bed. There was a long awkward pause and just before John was about to leave, Dean spoke up.  
"Why don't you ever let me talk about them?"  
John stopped, knowing exactly what his son meant. He played dumb, "Who?"  
"You damn well know who. Mum. You never let me speak about her. What did she do that was so terrible that you even hate hearing her name?"  
"Dean..."  
"Don't 'Dean' me, Dad. Why can't I talk about her? And what about that baby? The one I can't remember the name of? You nearly killed me when I talked about him before. Remember? When I was eight. I was talking about him and you threw me against the wall and said to never speak about him again. Why Dad? Who is he?" Dean just kept talking, rambling on.  
"DEAN!"  
The seventeen-year-old froze, staring at his father. John glared back.  
"There's a damn good reason you can't talk about them."  
"And what might that be Dad? Why won't you even tell me who that kid is? I don't even know his name! I keep dreaming about him Dad! Over the last few nights I've been dreaming about him! I hear yelling, and someone screaming their head off that you're a dickhead, and I'm holding the baby and saying 'it's gonna be okay'. I just wanna know who he is!"  
John stared. Dean hung his head, staring at the floor. Neither spoke for a good five minutes. At last, John cleared his throat.  
"Dean. Don't bring them up. Ever. Again. I told you that before, and I don't want to say it again," John's tone was low and warning. Dean knew not to mess with him when he spoke like this. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He knew his father wasn't telling the whole truth, and he wanted to know. Dean sighed, and turned away from his father. John shut the door quietly.

"_God Mary! Can't we make this work?" John said, holding his hands out.  
"I'd love to!" Mary yelled "But I don't think you're trying!"  
"I am trying! Can't you see that?"  
"Whatever you're doing isn't working John."  
"What about you? I'm trying to make this work and what are you doing?"  
"You think I'm not trying?" Mary yelled, throwing the plate at him. John ducked and the plate shattered against the wall behind him.  
"I don't know!"  
"You're such a dickhead John! You can't see what's right under your nose!"_

John ran a hand through his hair. He should have told him a long time ago. He should have kept reminding him so he didn't forget. But it was just so much easier to pretend the last few years had never happened. It was so much easier to let him forget. John growled and slammed his fist into the table, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm. So long. It had worked for so long. For thirteen years it'd worked, he'd forgotten. There were only the memories and they were easily kept quiet. But now it was all coming back to haunt him. She was back, he was back. After thirteen years they'd turned up, and his life with Dean was coming to an end. It hadn't been perfect, but it'd been close. And now everything was falling down around him.

**/\/\**

Sam opened the door to his flat. Silence greeted him. He stepped inside, lightly as he always did. If Jason was asleep, he might get away without a beating tonight. He looked around, not seeing his stepfather anywhere. He turned to shut the door.  
Suddenly, from nowhere, something jumped out and shoved him in the chest. He tumbled backwards, his head smacking into the wooden floor and making it spin. He could only blink dazedly as Jason shut the door and stood over him, smirking.  
"God, you're stupid, you know that?" Jason chuckled.

**/\/\**

Dean didn't sleep that night. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering about Sam. Scenes flashed in his head, possible scenarios ran riot, taunting him. Different endings to times he could have changed. He saw himself standing at the flat's door, bashing it down, running it and killing the son of a bitch who beat up kids. He saw himself not letting Sam go home alone earlier. He saw so many different decisions he could have made, his head started to throb. In the end, he turned on his side and tried to shut out the image of Sam's bruises and wounds. Tried to shut out the sound of the shake in Sam's voice. That night he dreamed of the baby again.

**A little explanation for you regarding Dean and splitting up with his brother. As someone pointed out, Dean would have been old enough to remember Sam. So this was just a little explanation, and what John thinks of all this. r&r please, I love them all! Hope you like :)**


	6. Always Screwing Up

**Wow, sorry for updating so quickly! But I've been at home all day, so I've had the chance to write loads. I've already gotten the next two chapter written, but I won't post both today. Possibly the next one though. So, here's chapter six! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed, I appreciate and love it!**

**Darren finally gets what he deserves XD**

Dean was at school early the next morning. As kids made their way into the school building or just passed by him, they cracked jokes about his sexuality, as they had been doing since the fight. Dean ignored them, keeping his eye out for Sam, which didn't really help with the jokes.

"Looking for your boyfriend Dean?" Darren grinned as he made it to school with only a few minutes before the bell went. Dean ignored him.  
"Give it a rest Winchester. Sam ain't coming. Saw him on his way to school and dealt with him," Darren laughed. His friends, grouped around him, laughed as well in their creepy, vacuous way. Dean froze, then turned to Darren.  
"What did you do?" He spoke with a low tone, one that made Darren laugh even harder.  
"Jeez, you are so easy to get at! Calm down Winchester, before you hurt yourself," the kid chuckled.  
Dean swore. In his head he kept repeating, over and over, that he shouldn't punch him. Couldn't. He couldn't do it or there'd be hell to pay. But the look on Darren's face was pure evil.  
"You know, Sam's a wimp. Of all the guys here at school, you're into him? Then again I think every other guy here is straight..." Darren never had a chance to finish. A feral snarl erupted from Dean's throat, sounding like an angry cornered dog, and the teen leaped, tackling Darren to the ground. The kid never saw it coming, and was crushed.  
Dean held back as best he could, knowing he could very easily kill the kid, and just punched him in the face. Once. He felt something shatter beneath his fist, and when he drew back blood was pouring from the kid's nose. Darren squealed, his tone high-pitched, and scrambled away as Dean stood up, a hand to his face.  
"You broke my nose!" he squeaked.  
"I could break a lot more than that, bitch. You should learn to shut your mouth," Dean said, his voice still in that low dangerous tone. This time Darren took him seriously. His friends pulled him to his feet and they ran inside, Darren still trying to staunch the flow of blood that was dripping down his face with alarming speed. Dean watched them go. His gaze so focused on watching the bastard disappear he almost missed the small figure making his into school. When he did see him, Dean instantly forgot about Darren and ran over.

"Sam!"  
The kid ignored him, trying to walk faster to escape. Dean skidded to a stop in front of him, effectively blocking Sam's route.  
"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked, looking over his friend. He could see at least three new bruises on his arms, and the cap was still firmly on his head. Sam refused to answer or look up. Dean sighed.  
"Look, give me your phone," he said eventually. Sam started, and looked up.  
"What?"  
"Give me your phone."  
Sam looked confused for a moment. Then hurt crashed over him, and Dean swallowed. He knew what it sounded like, but he was going to prove him wrong. Sam, defeated, pulled out his phone and held it out. Dean grabbed it and immediately started punching in numbers. After a moment, he handed it back. Sam stared at it, before quickly grabbing it and shoving it into his pocket. Dean winced as he saw the thin scabbed lines over his wrists.  
"If you need anything, call me, okay?" Dean said.  
Sam frowned, confused. He looked up at Dean, his black eye clearly visible.  
"I...I can't..." Sam trailed off, fighting inwardly with conflicting emotions.  
"Look, I can't just sit back and let this guy walk all over you," Dean said. Sam flinched, and Dean wondered just what Jason had been doing to his stepson "Anytime you wanna come over, feel free to. You're welcome anytime."  
Sam managed a small smile, then dropped his head. Dean smiled.  
"My dad called Child Protection, so they're gonna help you anyway..."  
He stopped when Sam's head shot up, horror and terror fighting for space on his face.  
"What?" he asked in a strangled tone.  
"My dad called..."  
"I know what you said! Why?"  
Dean was confused. What was wrong? Surely getting Sam out of that place was something he wanted!  
"Why? To get you out of there!"  
"Don't you think other people have tried?" Sam hissed, and a cold feeling washed over Dean.  
"What do you mean?"  
"People have called the authorities before. Mum's usually home and she tells them nothing's wrong and Jason never knows, but when he does, what do you think happens? He sends them off, tells them nothing's wrong, then what do you think happens?" Sam looked close to tears, his eye shining and not in a good way. Dean felt shock creep into him, dread locking on.  
"He's gonna kill me Dean! He's gonna..." Sam stopped and ran. Dean watched him go, shock rooting him to the spot. He'd screwed up. Big time. He had to _do_ something. But what was he supposed to do?

**/\/\**

Sam kept his eyes on his work as the teacher droned on about some great writer or something; he wasn't paying attention today. Not with the threat of the worst night of his life looming over him, and that wasn't an understatement.  
"Sam?"  
He looked up, realising he'd been asked a question by the way everyone in the class was looking at him. The teacher got a good look at his face and frowned.  
"Sam, what happened to your face?"  
"I fell down the stairs at home yesterday," he replied automatically. He'd done this so many times it came naturally now.  
"Are you alright? Do you want to see the nurse?" the woman sounded concerned.  
"I'm fine."  
The teacher didn't look convinced but with nothing else to go on, she had no choice but to continue the lesson.

**/\/\**

"Dean Winchester?"  
Dean looked to the door. Standing in the doorway was the school counsellor. He sighed.  
"Yeah?"  
"Please come with me," the woman said, smiling kindly.  
Dean chuckled and stood up, "Sure sweetheart."  
A low laugh spread throughout the class, and Dean headed out of the classroom and followed the woman down the empty hall.

As he entered the counsellor's office, the first thing Dean saw was his father, sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. His heart dropped.  
"Please, sit down," the counsellor said with a smile. Dean flopped into the seat, not making any eye contact with his father.  
"Now, I'm Melanie, and I'm the school counsellor. Earlier today a boy came to the nurse with a broken nose and blaming you, Dean," the blonde woman said. Dean shrugged.  
"So?" he said as casually as he could "Is there a problem?"  
"I'd like to know why, and I'm sure your father does too," Melanie prompted.  
Dean leaned forward, "He pissed me off. Simple as that. He's lucky I didn't hit him every time he pisses me off; he'd have been in hospital once a week at least."  
"What did he do?"  
"Nothing in particular."

**/\/\**

After an hour talking to Melanie, Dean and his father were finally allowed to leave. Dean was suspended from school for a few days as punishment. John didn't speak as the pair headed for the Impala parked on the street out the front of the school. Driving home, Dean felt he had to say something.  
"Dad..."  
"I don't want to hear it. I know you've been pretty worked up lately, but that's no reason that punch someone in the face," John interrupted.  
"Worked up? You don't know the half of it. I told Sam that you called the authorities, and now he's freaking out that his stepdad's gonna kill him!" Dean snapped, turning in his seat to face his father. John remained in his position, staring out the front window and keeping his eyes glued to the road.  
"I'm sure he'll be fine," John said, a tinge of... _something_ Dean couldn't figure out in his voice.  
Dean sighed in disgust as the car pulled to a stop outside their flat. He got out and slammed the door shut, storming inside. John just sighed, and followed his son. He heard smashing coming from Dean's room, but he didn't go to intervene. Let him cool off, he figured would be the best course of action. Just let him calm down.

An hour later, the thuds and crashes stopped, and John thought it would be safe to enter. He opened the door quietly. His son was lying on his bed, exhausted and asleep. The room looked like a nuclear bomb had hit it. Not much had survived Dean's wrath. Anything and everything that was in room had been torn, shredded, broken or smashed to varying degrees. Even the walls hadn't escaped unharmed. The knife Dean usually kept under his pillow was on the floor under Dean's dangling hand, where he must have dropped it after stabbing at the walls and falling asleep. The white-painted walls had large holes in them were Dean had dug the knife in, and paint had been stripped away in some places.  
_The kid certainly has a temper _John thought to himself, closing the door silently so as not to disturb his son.

**What do you think? Suspense! Yayz! Anyway, r&r! Me loves reviews and appreciates them muchly. Indeed I do XD**


	7. Fear Is Realised

**Here's chapter 7! Hope you like it. Obce again, thanks to everyone that has reviewed this, I really appreciate it :D**

**Major abuse and some swearing in this chapter, you have been warned.**

Sam walked quietly into his flat, fear radiated from him so obviously it would have been painful to watch, had someone been there to witness it. He looked around, and couldn't see anything. He considered backing out, leaving before his stepfather could find him. He took a step back. And ran into someone.

He nearly had a heart attack, jumping and spinning around to face Jason. The man towered over him, his arms folded.  
"Did you know the CPS came 'round today?" Jason said. There was no slur to his words, no stumble as he walked forwards towards Sam. He wasn't drunk. He was completely coordinated. Sam's heart pounded like a racehorse down the final stretch. Rarely, if ever, did Jason beat him when he wasn't drunk. Because when he wasn't drunk he was around Mary, who remained blissfully, for her, unaware that her husband was an alcoholic and a child abuser. Sam swallowed. Something bad was coming. He could feel it.

"No..." he stuttered, tripping on his own feet as he tried to walk backwards away from the advancing Jason.  
"Really? Well, I managed to get them to leave. They're coming back tomorrow to see you. But you aren't going to be here."  
Sam tripped and landed on his back, staring up in fear. Jason loomed over him, wire in hand.  
"No, you aren't going to be there, and neither am I."

Jason grabbed Sam and quickly, with the speed and accuracy of someone who had done it a hundred times before, bound Sam's hands behind his head. This time though, he shoved some fabric into his mouth to keep him quiet, and pulled the wire across. It was now effectively holding Sam's hands to his head, the wire running across his mouth the keep the fabric inside and tugging painfully on the sides of his mouth. Sam gave a muffled groan.  
"Shut up."

Jason swiftly bound Sam's ankles before kicking him, sending him sideways and into the wall of the narrow corridor. Sam didn't make another sound. Jason grabbed him by the hair and dragged him into the living room, the only room without a window. Tears of pain escaped and dripped down Sam's cheeks as his hair was pulled painfully, lifting almost his entire weight. Pain shot through him, but he'd learned over the years to block most of it out. Most.  
Jason dropped him, letting him fall with a thump. Before he could recover, he kicked Sam in the stomach, making him cry out involuntarily. Jason smirked and rammed his foot into the boy's stomach again. This time he just grunted.  
Jason knelt down beside the boy, and turned his head to face him. Tears streaked down Sam's face, his eyes shone with terror.  
"I'm gonna kill you," Jason breathed softly, and Sam froze "I'm gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna leave. I've had enough of your whore of a mother leaving me every other week. She can stay with whatever guy she's fucking and I'll just leave."

Jason wasn't expecting Sam to react the way he did. The kid mumbled something through the gag, then whipped his head forward. Foreheads met and Jason reeled backwards. His head spun for a moment as Sam struggled hard with the wire tying his hands to his head. Blood dripped from his already damaged wrists, and the corners of his mouth were dangerously close to tearing. Tears fell as he wriggled violently, lashing out with his feet and kicking Jason in the chest. The man fell back, winded. Sam writhed, the wire cutting deep into his skin and streaking the rug and wooden floor with blood. Jason scrambled out of the way and got his breath back, watching with amusement as Sam tried to escape. There was no chance for him, Jason mused, before jumping back in and holding Sam down. He grabbed his hair and viciously forced his head backwards. Sam emitted a high squeak and struggled.

"Did I say something to piss you off Sam?" Jason laughed, pulling harder. The hair was starting to get slick with blood from the boy's wrists. Jason chuckled. The kid may have just dealt himself his own deathblow.  
Without warning, Jason slammed his fist into Sam's face, the boy's head whipping around with the force. Sam groaned, but didn't fight back. Jason punched again, twice, three times. Still Sam didn't struggle.  
"Learnt your lesson, eh?"  
Sam barely nodded, his eyes shut tight and his hands curled into fists. Jason smirked. That'd teach him to fight back.

He stood up, and moved towards the kitchen. Sam watched him go, terror gleaming in his eyes. As soon as the man was gone, he leaped into action.  
Lying on the floor a few paces away was Sam's phone, lost from his pocket in the struggle. He crawled over, using his elbows instead of his hands to move. When he reached it, he flipped onto his back and, with some difficulty, kicked off his shoes and socks. Sam swallowed, knowing his life was riding on him being able to do this. He managed to manoeuvre the phone with his feet, and he pressed a few buttons with his toes, looking for one number. When he found it, he pressed the call button.  
He dropped the phone and moved so that his mouth was near it. He couldn't say anything with the gag in his mouth, but he knew that the person on the other end would understand.

**/\/\**

Dean groaned as he heard something ringing. Blearily, he opened his eyes. He saw the mess of his room and the events of a few hours ago flashed up in his mind. He smiled grimly, wondering how his father would take it. He'd even managed to ruin the walls of the rented flat, he thought, impressed. The ringing in the background brought him back to why he'd woken up.  
He blinked, sitting up and grabbing his phone from the table beside his bed. He glanced at the time on it first. Nearly five o'clock. Then he looked at the number. It wasn't familiar. He only had a few names saved into his phone. Dad, Bobby, Pastor Jim, a few others. He frowned. Who else knew his number? As the phone rang once more, his memory flashed back to earlier in the morning, and his heart stopped beating for an instant.  
_Sam._  
Dean quickly pressed a button and answered the call. Holding it his ear, he couldn't hear anything.  
"Hello? Sam?" he asked, waiting desperately for a reply.  
On the other end there was muffled breathing, groans, mumbles he couldn't hear. It took him a moment to process that Sam was calling for help.  
"I'm coming Sam. Don't worry, I'm on my way," Dean said, ending the call and racing out of his room.

"Dad! Sam's in trouble!" he yelled as he ran to the front door.  
"Where do you think you're going?" John asked, blocking the door.  
"Dad! Move! I have to help Sam!"  
"What do you mean? CPS went there earlier..."  
"They didn't do shit! Sam said it's happened before! Now he's terrified his stepdad's gonna kill him, and I get a phone call of muffled breathing and groans? He's in trouble!"  
John looked torn.  
"Let me through."  
"I'm sure he's fine," John said.  
"Would you listen to yourself? You haven't seen the damage Jason did to him! You didn't see the bruises, or the wounds on his wrists! The guy's sadistic!"  
John closed his eyes, but didn't back down, "He has to be fine."  
"He will be when I get there. Now move."  
John stared at his son. Dean stood there, getting more and more panicky by the second, until finally he snapped.  
"Move!" he yelled, grabbing his father by the shoulder and shoving him. He barely moved him, but it was enough for him to grab the doorhandle and wrench it open.  
"Dean!" John yelled.  
But it was too late, he was gone. He was already in the Impala and shooting off down the road.

John swore. Sam was fine. He had to be. He couldn't believe that Sam was being abused like that. It couldn't be that bad. Shaking, he sat down at the table, his head in his hands. Sam had to be okay. His son had to be okay.

**/\/\**

Sam ended the call with his toe, hoping Dean would hurry. The knowledge that his friend was coming was enough to strengthen him, to make him try and hold on.  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jason swore when he entered the room again, seeing Sam had moved.  
Sam froze. If he found out he'd called someone, he'd kill him instantly. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs as he waited.  
"You trying to escape?" Jason laughed "Well, you can't."  
Sam relaxed, but only slightly. Pushing the phone under the couch, he rolled over to face his stepfather. His eyes widened when he saw the long blade in his hand.  
"No, you can't escape. Not from me."  
_Oh God, hurry Dean. Hurry._

**Cliffie! I'm so evil XD Anyway, let me know what you think! I love hearing your feedback :)**


	8. Horror Movie

**Here's the next part of the story! Now you can find out if Dean saves him in time! Dean to the rescue!**

**Thanks for all the reviews! I love you all *hugs***

**Graphic mentions of blood, violence, etc. Also swearing. You've been warned.**

Dean drove as fast as he dared. The cops were pretty vigilant in this town and he passed two cars on the way. By the time he reached Sam's place it was nearly ten minutes after Sam had called. He literally jumped out of the car and didn't bother about shutting the door. He ran straight to the flats, tearing open the door and running inside.

Sam's flat was pretty close to the front, and it only took a second for Dean to reach it. He skidded to a stop, pounding on the door before he'd fully halted. He considered bashing the door down, but it quickly opened and revealed Jason.  
"What the fuck do you want?" he asked, frowning.  
"Where's Sam?"  
"Why do you want to know? He's still at school; he got detention. Now, if you'd excuse me..."  
"I'm not going to fucking excuse you, you slimy git," Dean swore, and tried to step inside. Jason stopped him.  
"If you take one step inside my house I'll call the cops," he said lowly.  
Dean hesitated. He knew if he went in, he could really get busted.  
"Sam!" he yelled.  
There was no reply. Jason smirked.  
"See? He's not home. Now piss off before I call..."  
Dean silenced him with a hand as he heard something. Faint, but there. And the tone was familiar.  
"Sam?" Dean yelled again.  
"I told you, piss off!" Jason said. Just as Jason spoke the last word, there was a small but definite sound. The sound of someone screaming for help when he could barely make a sound.  
That did it. Dean didn't care what happened to him now. He swore violently and grabbed Jason by the shoulders. He shoved the older man to the ground, stunning him. Dean ran past, and promptly tripped as Jason grabbed his leg. On the ground, Dean kicked out, catching the man in the head which forced him to let go. Dean scrambled to his feet and ran down the hall towards the sound. When he turned into the living room, he froze, unable to move a muscle as he took in the scene in front of him.

It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Blood spattered the walls and floor, a knife lay on the table, the edge soaked in blood. Scarlet splatters were everywhere, the metallic scent thick in the air. In the middle of the room lay Sam, on his side. He was covered in blood, and numerous deep cuts were visible on his arms and legs. His hair was matted and dark, tears keeping most of his face clean. His eyes were closed, his hands tied up behind his head with something Dean couldn't see through the blood, his ankles were bound.  
"Oh my God," was all Dean could say. Sam's eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice, and he looked blankly at him.  
Dean knelt beside him, horrified. He wasn't sure what to do. He'd been injured on hunts. He'd had to stitch his father up sometimes. But he'd never seen so much blood lost. It was just everywhere.  
Sam tried to say something, and Dean realised he was gagged. He moved to pull the fabric out, but saw how it was held in. He paused, shocked. Sam's mouth was torn up, the corners cut by the thin wire. He dreaded to think what his wrists looked like.  
"Sam, just hold on, okay? I'm gonna get this off," Dean said, turning around and looking for something to cut the wire with. When he saw the knife, he grabbed it and turned. Sam's eyes widened and he squirmed.  
"Woah, hold on, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt you, okay? I'm just gonna get the wire off," Dean said, his voice shaking as much as his hands as he tried to saw the wire off. He grimaced as Sam winced when the wire dug in deeper. It didn't take long for the wire to snap. Dean, as gently as possible, lowered Sam's arms gently before cutting through the wire on his ankles. The boy coughed, spitting out the gag, along with more blood.  
_Oh God, more blood. He's gonna die, he's gonna die...  
_Dean knew he had to get Sam to a hospital. He dropped the knife and gently shifted Sam, who was lying against him, one hand on his shoulder as if to keep him there. The boy groaned.  
"It's okay," Dean said. Quickly, he lifted him up, holding him bridal-style. Sam clung onto his shoulder with one hand, the other hanging limply across his chest. Dean turned to leave, and found his way blocked by Jason.

"You ain't goin' nowhere," the man snarled, flipping the knife into the air with his foot and catching it easily. The guy certainly knew his way around a blade. Dean swallowed. He couldn't fight back holding Sam. He backed up as Jason moved towards him, spinning the knife menacingly.  
"Oh no, you ain't goin' nowhere. I'm gonna kill you both. Too bad you had to get in the way," Jason chuckled hysterically. Dean tightened his grip on Sam, making the younger kid mumble.  
Jason lunged forward, the knife plunging downwards towards Sam. At the last second, Dean turned to face the wall.

He yelled as the knife dug into his shoulder. Pain flared through his shoulder, around his body. He jerked away, tearing the knife from his flesh and causing Jason to stumble, crashing into the wall as he unbalanced. Fighting the growing waves of nausea from the smell of blood in the room, Dean stumbled out, trying to keep his grip on Sam. The boy was fading in and out of consciousness, mumbling under his breath. Dean staggered out of the flat and made it to his car without falling over. He vaguely thought of what his Dad would do when he found all the blood in the car as he carefully put Sam on the front seat. The kid curled up, his left arm still hanging loosely. From the large amount of blood that was still oozing from his elbow on that arm, Dean figured it was probably broken and the bone had broken the skin. Trying to block out the throbbing pain in his shoulder and the strange-yet-familiar sensation of blood dripping down his back under his t-shirt, Dean stumbled to the driver's side and somehow managed to turn the engine on. He drove away from the flat and towards the hospital, his only concerns for Sam and that he wouldn't crash.

"Sam?" Dean mumbled as he drove. The road was looking fuzzy in front of him. There was a small mumble from the front seat which was enough to let Dean know he was still alive. Dean glanced over. Sam was still curled up, one arm protectively circling his knees, his head resting on them. Dean turned his attention to the road again. A moment later, Sam spoke.  
"You... came..." he muttered.  
"'Course I did," Dean chuckled weakly "You called. You needed help."  
"I didn't... think y...you heard me."  
"I did. Heard you loud and clear."  
There was a pause, then Sam spoke again.  
"I tried t... to fight..."  
"Y-you did? Good on ya, that's pretty brave," Dean smiled thinly.  
"It is?"  
Dean smiled at the sound of innocence in Sam's voice, the sound of seeking approval.  
"Yeah, it is. Now you hold on, okay Sammy? Just hold on."

A minute later, Dean pulled up in the driveway of the hospital. He parked wonkily near the emergency door, and staggered out. He collected Sam, and made his way inside.  
The moment he walked in, all eyes were on him. Weakly, he called out for help. Nurses and other people ran to help them, someone taking Sam from his arms. Dean collapsed as the weight left him, and he fell to his knees.  
"It's okay son, what's your name?"  
"Dean... Winchester," he mumbled.  
"What happened to you?"  
Before Dean could reply, the blood-loss finally caught up with him and his vision went black. He lost all sense and fell into soft dreamless darkness.

**Sammy! Dean! Another cliffhanger! Jason's so evil... Anyways, r&r, and hope you liked! Next chapter coming soon!**


	9. I Had To Know

**Chpater 9! Wow, this is probably the longest thing I have ever written. Before this my record was 21 pages, and this is on 23 already, and there's still loads to go!**

**Thanks for all the reviews! Hugs to you all XD**

When Dean awoke, his head was throbbing, his shoulder hurt like hell and he was alone in a starkly white room. He blinked dazedly, looking around. From what he could tell, he was in hospital.  
_Hospital...stabbed...Sam!  
_Dean tried to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his right shoulder in protest. He bit his lip and moved to stand.  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" a female voice asked briskly.  
Dean turned his head to see a pretty young brunette enter his room, shaking her head. At any other time Dean would have made some sort of comment, but at that moment all he wanted was to find out what had happened to Sam.  
"Where's Sam? Is he okay? What happened to him?"  
"You can't go anywhere sir," the nurse said, pushing him back down onto the bed.  
"I'm fine!"  
"Dean?"  
Dean looked over the nurse's shoulder to see his father standing in the doorway. He looked relieved, worried, angry and slightly scared all at the same time. He rushed in, moving to stand beside his son.  
"Dad, where's Sam?" Dean asked, still trying to stand up.  
"Dean, calm down. The nurse will have to sedate you if you don't," John said. Dean just glared at him and didn't listen.  
"Look, we'll tell you about Sam if you lie down."  
At this, the teenager sighed, and reluctantly calmed down. He lay back on the bed, glaring at the ceiling. The nurse hid a smile  
"I'll go find someone who can tell you about Sam," she said, leaving.

"Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine."  
John sighed. He wanted to yell at his son for going in there when he could have been hurt. He wanted to commend him for saving Sam. He wanted to hug him in relief that he was alright. But he did none of those things. He just sat there, in silence. At last, Dean spoke.  
"How did you know I was here?" he asked.  
"The hospital called. They found your phone in your pocket and got my number."  
The pair lapsed into another awkward silence. Dean refused to make eye contact with his father, preferring to stare at the ceiling with such animosity that John wasn't sure he wanted to say anything.

"Dean Winchester?"  
The pair looked up to see a young doctor, a blonde man in his thirties with kind blue eyes, entering the room.  
"I'm Dr. Mills, Sam's doctor."  
"Is he okay?" Dean asked instantly, trying to sit up. John put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.  
"It depends on what you mean by okay."  
The Winchesters waited as the doctor sighed.  
"Look, Sam's alive. He's sedated at the moment but he should wake up any day now."  
There was clearly an unspoken 'but'. Dean frowned, relief crashing as he realised Sam was alive. But worry crept in to steal space in his heart, worry for what damage the bastard Jason had done to him.  
"But, he has extensive injuries," Mills continued.  
"What are they? What did he do to him?" Dean asked.  
"Who?"  
"His stepfather! He's the one who did all this!"  
"Ah. Well, the police have him on suspicion, so that's something. Anyway, are you sure you want to hear? The list is long and quite serious."  
"Yes. I have to know what that bastard did to him," Dean said, almost spitting out the curse.  
Mills sighed, and looked at a clipboard in his hand.  
"Well, to start with his more recent injuries..."  
"He has severe bruising almost covering his entire body, some newer and some a few days old. Most of the new bruising is on his chest and face. His nose is broken, but we've fixed that. Along his arms and legs he has a series of deep and shallow cuts. The shallower ones are already healing and the deeper ones look like they're going to be fine with a bit of care. His worst injuries are a broken left arm, which we've set, and severe lacerations on his wrists and ankles. There is evidence of earlier bruising and cuts in these places, and the cuts opened up again. The wounds are quite deep but we don't think there will be any permanent damage. Also, the corners of his mouth were quite damaged, but again, we think they will heal without too much scarring, if any."

Dean shuddered. He'd only been stabbed, once. Sam had been through all of that, as well as possibly hundreds of times before. He felt sick.  
"Do you want me to continue?" Mills asked.  
Dean just nodded. He had to know what else had been done to Sam.  
"Well, there are no signs of sexual abuse, and internally he seems fine. But what I'm most worried about is the emotional trauma. We won't know how bad it is until he wakes up."  
"I wanna see him," Dean said suddenly "Where is he?"  
"You're in no state to go anywhere, you were stabbed..."  
"And compared to Sam, that's nothing!"  
The doctor sighed, knowing he couldn't let the kid out when he was still injured. But he had the feeling that if he didn't allow it, Dean would probably find the younger kid himself.  
"The police are here, and they want to know what happened. They want to talk to you. You tell them what you know, and I'll allow you to see Sam," Mills said eventually. He figured that the time it would take would be long enough for Dean to heal sufficiently to move.  
Dean glared. If looks could kill, Mills was dead ten times over. Finally, he sighed and nodded in defeat.  
"Good. I'll send someone in to check on you later," Mills said, then left the room.

Dean was still for a moment, before he leaned over and tried to throw up. There was nothing in his stomach to come up, and John just put his hand on his son's back, rubbing small circles as Dean was sick.  
"Oh my God," Dean mumbled.  
"It's okay. He's gonna be fine," John said numbly, not really listening. His own mind was processing the horrific facts of Sam's attack. He hung his head in shock.  
"I should have gotten there sooner. I should have just gone in there, not wasted time..."  
"None of this was your fault, okay?" John said, turning his son's head to face him "None of it. It was no one's fault. You did what you had to do."  
Dean just nodded, pulling his head away. John dropped his hands, overwhelming guilt washing over him. He should have done something. He should have gone there and bashed the man senseless. He should have killed him for what he did to Sam. But he hadn't. He had let Dean go in there, and now he'd been stabbed. He could have been killed; both of them could of. He should have done something.

"I'm sorry," Dean said suddenly. John looked up in surprise.  
"For what?"  
"I dunno. Loads of things. For getting myself stabbed, for rushing in without thinking, for pushing and yelling at you, for getting blood in the Impala, for..."  
"Dean, shut it."  
The seventeen-year-old glanced at his father with apology in his eyes.  
"I almost got him killed."  
"But you didn't. You saved him. And it doesn't matter how you do it as long as..."  
"As long as at the end of the day, you've done your job," Dean finished.  
John smiled.

**Aww, John really is a good guy, he's just confuzzled. And poor Sammy D: r&r please, I love them so much! Next chapter up soon!**


	10. Defeated and Breaking

**Wow, ten chapters! **

**Thanks for all the reviews! Thanks to crazybookworm95, cold kagome and vampyfreak, among others! Love you all!**

"_No! Get away from me!" I scream, twisting and writhing to escape. The wire bites down on my wrists, sending waterfalls of scarlet down my arms. He stands above me, laughing. The knife blade glints silver in his bloodied hand. White teeth gleaming as he laughs at me. The knife comes down, slashes my skin, brings a well of blood to the surface and spilling over.  
"No! Leave me alone!" I cry, sobbing. Tears make tracks down my face, clearing any blood away in a tide of sorrow and fear. Pain shoots through my arm, again and again. The knife slices down, over and over.  
A voice behind him makes him stop. I scream for help. The man behind tackles my attacker to the ground. Guttural snarls erupt, a pair of fighting dogs warring over the prize. The knife swings true, lands deep in flesh. Blood sprays in a fountain over me. I watch my saviour fall, the light die from his eyes.  
"NO! DEAN!" I scream.  
My attacker turns to me, and the knife slices my skin again. And again. And again. A never ending wave of pain and hurt smashes me, crushes me. I scream soundlessly into the darkening abyss. _

**/\/\**

Dean watched with a careful eye as the officer entered the room. He was a short man, balding slightly, in his fifties. He smiled and sat down in front of Dean.  
"I'm Detective Mark Hayes," the officer said.  
"I'm ecstatic to meet you. Can we get on with this?" Dean snapped.  
Hayes chuckled.  
"Dean, could you tell me what happened on Thursday night?" Hayes asked.  
Dean shivered. The memory was clear in his mind. It replayed every moment he wasn't preoccupied with something else. Which was often. The night had run through his mind over a hundred times, and every time he shuddered at the sight of Sam lying there, covered in his own blood, fading away in front of him. He swallowed and began.

**/\/\**

"How did he stab you?" Hayes asked.  
"I was holding Sam, so I couldn't fight back," Dean said, keeping his face straight despite the twinge in his shoulder when he thought about the incident "So when he moved to stab Sam, I turned."  
"And he got you in the shoulder instead?"  
"Yes," Dean muttered. His voice was drugged with tiredness, and all he wanted was to see Sam. He shook his head and glanced at the police officer.  
"What happened then?"  
"I twisted, the knife came out, he ran into a wall," Dean said as if it really were that simple "I got Sam outta there and drove him to the hospital where I guess I passed out."  
Hayes nodded, scribbling something down. When he'd finished, he looked up.  
"Had you ever met Jason Wesson before?"  
"Once. I dropped Sam home after school and he answered the door. He was drunk, pushing Sam around."  
"And what did you do?"  
"He slammed the door in my face. I stood there for a good five minutes debating what to do before I left."  
"You left?" the policeman raised an eyebrow. Dean growled.  
"I'd known Sam for two days. Who was I to interfere with his family? I wasn't sure of anything," he snapped. His shoulder sent out a shock of pain to remind him not to move.  
"What about his mother? Have you met her?"  
"No. Sam said they have to move around a lot for her job, but that's all I know. From what he said I don't even think she knows."  
Hayes nodded, "Thank you. I might have to come back later, but I think that's it."

Dean watched as the officer left, whispering something to his father before he disappeared. John came in, his face hiding the slightest hint of worry. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dean interrupted him.  
"I wanna see Sam now," he said tiredly, hanging his head and not bothering to look at his father. John blinked; this didn't sound like Dean. There was defeat in his voice, suppressed anger and worry. He nodded.  
"I'll check with the doctor," he said, and left.

Dean lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It reminded him of when he'd lay in bed at the flat, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Sam. And here he was, doing it again. Thoughts whirled through his mind so fast he could barely keep track of them. Images of Thursday night. Snippets of conversations they'd had. The haunted look in Sam's eyes. The blood splattered everywhere. The shock of the knife sliding into his shoulder. The crazed gleam in the man's eyes. Sam's smile. His laugh. They all spun through his brain, each one taking up residence then fleeing as another stole its place. Dean shook his head to clear it.  
"Dean?"  
The teenager sat up, barely wincing at the throbbing pain in his bandaged shoulder. Standing in the doorway was John and Dr. Mills. The doctor seemed to be thinking, a frown creasing his face.  
"I had thought it would take longer and you'd be healed a little more," Mills said "But I suppose you can see him."  
Dean wanted to grin, to sigh with relief. But energy seemed to have left him and he simply nodded, containing his swirling excitement and worry.  
John moved closer, and helped Dean off the bed. His shoulder protested but Dean, after many hunting injuries, just ignored it. He walked slowly out of the room and followed the blonde doctor down the almost silent halls.

They came to a stop outside a closed door marked with the number 281. Mills glanced at Dean.  
"Are you sure? He's not in the best shape..."  
"Yes. I'm sure."  
Mills opened the door and let Dean enter first.

When he saw Sam, Dean felt like his legs were going to fall out from under him. He had expected it to be bad, but he hadn't imagined this.  
Sam's left arm was in a cast, and bandages were covering the deeper cuts inflicted on his arms and probably on his legs, although they were hidden by the blanket. The others were left to heal naturally, and they had already scabbed and nearly gone. His face was still recovering from the bruises and was a sickly green-yellow, just starting to fade. The colour extended down his neck and chest until they were hidden by the hospital gown. On his wrists, Dean saw thick bandages, and he remembered what the skin had looked like when he'd cut the wire from it. He blinked. Sam's mouth was also healing well, although the marks on the corners where the thin metal had pulled were still visible. He looked almost peaceful, if it weren't for the injuries. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly, his fringe lying across his forehead.

The gentle thud of the door closing behind him made Dean turn his head. He was alone; Mills and his father had left. Looking back to Sam, Dean swallowed. He should have done something sooner...  
Dean sat down on the chair beside Sam's bed and just stared at him, just watched his chest rise and fall, the small movements of his heart beating. The beeping of the heart monitor droned on in the background. Those were the only things showing that Sam was still alive, the only things that proved Dean had done his job.

Dean reached out a hand, grimacing at the sudden flash of pain through his shoulder, and gently held Sam's hand. It was limp, lifeless.  
"I'm sorry Sammy, I should have done something more. I should have done something more. I should have..."  
He repeated the mantra in a whisper, his gaze fixed on Sam's face.

**/\/\**

Ten minutes later, Mills and John agreed it was time for Dean to head back to his room. They opened the door quietly so as not to startle the teenager. As they looked inside, John smiled. Dean had Sam's hand in his grip, not tight enough to cause any pain or harm but it certainly looked strong enough to make both the father and the doctor think twice about moving him. Dean's head rested on the edge of the bed, and he was fast asleep. John shook his head, painful memories returning. Of a young Dean holding his new little brother. Of a toddler holding his brother's tiny hand and promising to always be there. John blinked and turned away before anyone could see the tear escape down his cheek.  
_What have I done? How could I have left him? How could we have made that deal?_

**/\/\**

_I feel something in my hand, ghostly fingers curling around mine. Instantly a sense of protection falls over me like a shield. I grip tighter, staring up at my enemy. He grins savagely, and the knife slices down. Blood sprays, a scream of pain, and the feeling in my hand turns from warm to cold and dead. The fingers grip tighter, squeezing so hard the blood flow stops. I scream. No. He can't! Why can't I be safe? Why can't he let me be safe?_

**What do you think? I appreciate all reviews! Hugs to you all! BTW, Mary will turn up soon...**


	11. Everyone's Heart Breaks

**Another chapter up and running! This one's pretty sad, so be warned. **

**Thanks for all the reviews! Hugs to all you awesome people XD**

Everything hurt. His arms, legs, chest, stomach, even his head hurt. His whole body felt like it was on fire. His wrists and ankles ached like crazy and every breath sent a small shockwave of pain through his body. Sam blinked opened his eyes slowly, bright light blinding him for a moment.  
"Dr. Mills!" a voice called out from above him. Sam froze. It was strange, unfamiliar. Where was he? Why did his body hurt so much?  
"Sam?" someone called "Sam, can you open your eyes for me?"  
Another stranger. Sam didn't move, fearful of what he might see if he opened his eyes.  
"Come on Sam, open your eyes."  
Carefully, Sam blinked, his vision slightly blurry. Shapes swum in front of his eyes. As they started to come into focus, Sam saw a man standing over him, a man with short blonde hair and stubble.  
_No! NO!_  
Sam gasped, and tried to pull back. His body flared with agony, but the urge to get away prevailed. Is left arm felt heavy and it wouldn't move, wouldn't follow his commands. He struggled, trying to sit up, to run, to get away. The man's voice called to him to stop, to calm down.  
_No! Not again! Dean saved me! Why can't you just leave me alone!_

Someone grabbed his right arm. Immediately, he jerked it out and flailed. His hand caught something and there was a grunt of surprise and a thud. More people came, grabbing him, holding him down. He wriggled and screamed.  
"DEAN! YOU SAID! YOU SAID YOU HEARD ME! DEAN! HELP MEEE!"

**/\/\**

Dean mumbled, rolling over. An ear-splitting scream tore him from the darkness of a dreamless sleep and had him sitting bolt upright, ears pricked. He could make out the shapes of the furniture in the room from the light in the hallway spilling in through the half-closed door. His father was asleep in one of the chairs, head back and snoring lightly. Dean frowned. What was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was being by Sam's bedside...  
The scream ripped through the hospital again and made Dean's blood run cold.  
"DEAN! HELP MEEE!"  
Without a second thought, Dean threw off the blanket and slid of the bed. His shoulder groaned in complaint, as usual, but all Dean could think about was following that scream. As he half-ran, half-tripped out of the room, he heard his father's voice behind him.  
"Dean? Dean!"

Dean burst into room 281. Sam was surrounded by doctors and nurses, and one was about to sedate him. He was twisting and sobbing, calling over and over for Dean. The teenager growled, and shoved one of the nurses out of the way. She stumbled backwards, shocked.  
"What the hell is he doing here? Get him out!" someone ordered. A hand was on his shoulder instantly. Acting on the instinct he'd learned to hone as a child, Dean spun and swung his fist. It smashed into the doctor's nose and left him bleeding on the floor.  
Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders.  
"Sam! Sam, I'm here!" he yelled.  
Almost immediately Sam started to calm down. He managed to get his eyes open and he saw Dean looking down at him.  
"Dean?" he whimpered.  
The older kid's heart cracked with Sam's terrified tone. He pulled Sam closer into a protective hug. He glanced around at the shocked staff, most of which were staring at a safe distance. One was still on the floor, his nose smashed. Another, Mills, stood closer, sedative in hand.  
"You put that in him and I'll sedate you with my fist," Dean swore.  
The doctor, knowing the kid wasn't joking around, stepped back. He glanced from Dean to Sam, then back again.  
"What the hell were you doing?" Dean asked, his tone cautioning the staff to answer quickly, truthfully and to stay at a safe distance.  
"He woke up and started panicking," Mills said carefully.  
"He was terrified, you idiot. You didn't think that maybe getting me would have been a good idea? I mean, he was screaming my name at the top of his voice."  
Before anyone could answer, John ran in. He saw the scene in front of him and stared.  
"What the hell did you do Dean?"  
"I was helping Sammy."  
John froze. Sammy. The name flew back on a memory, thirteen years ago. The toddle sat in Sam's room, holding him in his arms.

"_Hey Sammy. You're gonna be a cool little brother. And I'm gonna be an awesome big brother," Dean declared proudly. He held his brother close to his chest, the two-month-old gurgling in blissful baby ignorance of Dean's words._

John shook his head and all but ran from the room. Dean didn't care, and just held Sam tighter. Soft sobs could be heard coming from where Sam's head was buried into Dean's good shoulder. He glared daggers at the medical staff around them.  
"For God's sake, you made the kid cry. Now fuck off before I deck the lot of you."  
The men and women glanced at each other, not sure what to do. Their patient was now somewhat calm and didn't really need the sedative anymore. Then again, they were being ordered around by a seventeen-year-old.

All it took was one sharp glance from Dean for them to make up their minds and disappear. Mills stayed behind for a moment. He looked apologetic.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten him," he said softly, before leaving.

Once he and Sam were alone, Dean relaxed his grip a little. Sam freaked out.  
"Woah, calm down buddy! You're fine!"  
Sam peeled himself away and looked up at Dean. There was pure terror in his eyes.  
"I thought he... was gone," Sam said.  
"He is. They're all gone."  
"Jason."  
The name sent a shiver down Dean's spine, but he didn't show it to Sam. Instead he settled Sam back down. He allowed himself to lie down, but didn't let go of Dean's arm.  
"He's gone. The cops have him, he's gone," Dean assured him, sitting down on the shair and pulling it closer.  
"He was...there..." Sam looked lost, confused.  
"That wasn't him. That was a doctor. Although I have to admit, he did look a little like the bastard," Dean mused as he compared the two in his head. Apart from eye colour and their physical frame, they were almost identical. Mills was a short, thin man, whilst Jason was an intimidating muscled terror you'd be afraid to meet in a dark alley.

Sam finally started to calm down properly, and the heart monitor that was beeping like crazy started to settle. Dean smiled.  
"You won't let...you won't let him..."  
"No way buddy. He's never going to get you. Not with me around. I can promise you that."  
Sam smiled. His expression was almost that of child-like peace. Dean bit his lip. Just what was going on in Sam's head? Would the funny, sarcastic Sam come back? Or would he get worse? Dean ruffled Sam's hair with a half-smile. The kid had fallen asleep again, hand still clutching Dean's arm like his life depended on it. The teenager's eyes began to close, his eyelids heavy and leaden. Eventually, Dean fell asleep too, his head in the same position as earlier that day. That night he dreamed for the first time in days. He dreamed about the baby again.

**/\/\**

John slowed to a walk, panting. He knew he'd made a terrible mistake. He'd known it for thirteen years. But he couldn't take them back, he couldn't take thirteen years back and change his life, change Sam's life. There was nothing he could do.

He headed to go get a coffee, needing something to do so he didn't explode. As he passed one of the staff's offices, he caught a glimpse of the police inside. They were talking to someone. He froze as he thought he recognised the person. Slowly, he walked backwards until he could see through the door's window.

She hadn't changed much. Long blonde hair, tied back in a messy ponytail, her clothes worn and travel-stained. She was crying, and from her body language she was trying to tell the officers something they wouldn't listen to. One of the officers spoke, and the woman froze. John clearly saw her mouth form the next word.  
"No."  
She sat there, stunned, repeating that word over and over again. John stared.

_My God Mary, what have you done?_

**Yay, Mary! She's a big part in the next chapter, so now you can find out what she knows and what she thinks. And some possibly interesting revelations... r&r, hugs to those who do!**


	12. Thirteen Years A Lie

**Whoo, 12 chapters, 32 pages, and still going! Thanks for all the reviews and support! crazybookworm95, cold kagome, vampyfreak, many hugs to you! And thank you for that lovely review astafir, it made my day! Okay, on with the story :D**

Sam awoke early the next morning. Sunlight had just started to stream in through the window as he opened his eyes. When he closed his hand over empty hair, he panicked, thinking Dean had gone. He sat up, breathing fast, to find his friend asleep on the floor, his head resting on his arm. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered if he should wake Dean up. The floor looked cold.  
"Dean?" he whispered.  
The effect was immediate. Dean blinked his eyes open, saw where he was, and sat up quickly. He glanced up at Sam, and worry crossed his face.  
"You alright?" he stood up, then sat back down in the chair, concern spread across his face.  
"M'fine. You were on the floor"  
Dean smiled. Just then, the door opened and an unfamiliar nurse entered quietly. She frowned when she saw Dean.  
"Should you be in here?" she asked.  
"Would you like to try and get rid of me? Go ask the last doctor that tried to remove me from the room. He's probably being treated for a shattered nose. Shattered, not broken." Dean shot back.  
The nurse, a thin woman with brown-blonde hair, contemplated that thought for a moment, as if decided if he were serious or not. In the end, she decided against doing anything herself, and busied herself with checking Sam's IV and assorted machines. Sam tensed a little when she came near, but knowing Dean was beside him calmed him. The boys waited in silence until the nurse was done.  
"Alright, Dr. Mills will be here in a moment to talk to you Sam, okay?" the nurse said, the question sounding more like a statement. Sam just nodded, but Dean cleared his throat.  
"Can Sam get a different doctor?" he asked.  
"Why?"  
"Because..." Dean didn't get to finish before the door opened and Mills walked in. As he did, everything went to hell.

Dean wasn't sure if it was from the trauma of the previous night or the fact he looked strikingly similar to Jason. Whatever it was, Sam took one look at the blonde doctor and screamed. He kicked and flailed and tried his best to run. Dean grabbed him and muttered assurances in his ear.  
"Sam, calm down, just calm down, everything's gonna be fine, it's okay," Dean said. Panic was radiating so strongly from the younger boy that even Dean started to feel a bit worried. Mills, unsure, stepped back.  
Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head onto Dean's shoulder, mumbling incoherent ramblings. Dean rubbed his back, turning to face Mills. His glare said everything he couldn't or wouldn't say in front of Sam.  
"You're terrifying the poor kid. And I'm not surprised, after last night. Get Sam a new doctor, or you'll have to deal with this every time you walk into the room. And me," Dean hissed.  
Mills, every part of him wanting him to helping his patient, torn between how to do it, glanced at the nurse before leaving the room.

"It's okay, he's gone..."  
Sam didn't reply, just shook with fear and tears. Dean stayed quiet, just calming Sam down. The nurse left in a hurry, mumbling something under her breath. When they were alone, Sam looked up. Dean bit his lip to stop himself from saying something when he saw the expression of a child on the thirteen-year-old's face. Sam's gaze wandered to the bandage just visible under Dean's t-shirt, and started. A memory seemed to replay in his eyes, and Dean tensed.  
"I'm sorry."  
Dean stared. That was unexpected. He frowned, shifting so he could see Sam better.  
"What do you mean?"  
"He stabbed you."  
"Yeah. That's not your fault."  
"He told me... he told me not to yell. He said... if I did then..." Sam paused for a moment, fighting back another wave of uncontrollable emotion "He'd kill whoever was at the door. He'd do it in front of me, then kill me. He told me not to call for help..."  
"Sam!" The kid was shaking again, every muscle trembling. His head dropped onto Dean's shoulder. The elder rested his chin on Sam's head, closing his eyes as he comforted the younger.  
"I could have... have killed you," Sam hiccupped.  
Dean almost laughed at this. Sam had no idea. He could have taken Jason down with a couple of punches.  
"No way Sammy, I wouldn't have let that happen," he said, leaning back and looking at Sam. The kid turned to face him.  
"Still... it could have...I saw the look in his eyes..."

Right when Dean opened his mouth to reply, someone chose that moment to enter the room.

Dean swore silently and turned to see who had entered. When he saw, he could do nothing but stare, his arms dropping from their protective circle around Sam. Sam started in surprise and turned to look. His jaw dropped slightly.  
"Sam?" the blonde woman said, her voice cracking with shock. Tears started to fall. Dean stood up.  
"No. No, no no..." he trailed off.  
The woman stared at him, as if recognising him but not quite. Dean swallowed.  
"Mary? No, no..."  
Mary jumped, shocked. How did he know her name? Why was he looking at her like that?  
"Who the hell are you? What are you doing with my son?" she demanded.  
Dean walked right up to her, standing only a few paces away.  
"I'm Dean. I'm..." he tried to say more, but he couldn't. Instead, he ran, leaving Sam calling out his name.

**/\/\**

He ran down the hall, not caring about the massive jolts of pain shooting through his shoulder. He felt something warm and sticky start to dribble very slowly down his back, but he ignored it. The worst pain was in his chest, where his heart beat painfully against his ribs in an attempt to free itself.  
_No, he can't of. He hasn't lied, he's never lied to me. Not like this, not about something so big. He can't have lied, he can't have walked away...She can't be, she can't be the one from the dream, no._

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't see the doctor before he ran into him, sending both of them crashing to the floor. The doctor scrambled to his feet quickly, but Dean just sat there, unmoving. The doctor saw the blood on the bandage, the stain on the t-shirt.  
"Hey, kid? You need to come with me."  
Dean didn't move, just sat there staring at the floor, a tear falling.  
"He lied to me. I can't believe..."  
Dean blocked out the doctor's voice, letting his shock envelope him. Betrayal stabbed at his heart, and his muscles felt weak, like they were going to give way at any moment. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but eventually a piercing pain in his arm brought him to his sense, and by the time he realised what had been done, it was too late. The sedative worked its way through his system and he tripped into a darkness full of screaming, fear and blood.

**/\/\**

"Sam? What did... what did he do to you?" Mary asked, kneeling by her son's bedside. He refused to look at her, instead facing the chair where Dean had been sat a moment ago.  
"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbled.  
"I am so sorry Sam, I'm sorry I didn't know, I'm sorry I couldn't help, I'm sorry I married the bastard...I know that being sorry doesn't help, but..." Mary rambled on for a moment.  
Sam interrupted her, "Do you think it helped when I said it?"  
Mary was silent, tears falling as she tried to comprehend what her husband had done to her son. She took in the fading bruises, the cast around his arm, the bandages around his wrists. The police had said he'd been badly beaten and was close to death from blood loss. Something had cut into his wrists and ankles and had nearly killed him...  
"You know who he is, don't you?" Sam said quietly.  
Mary glance at him, confused.  
"Dean. You know who he is. You know what he is."  
"What? I don't..."  
"His last name is Winchester. Just like ours before you married..." his voice wobbled and broke off before he got out the name.  
Mary felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. The name had been familiar, but there were many kids called Dean. She hadn't connected the two, unlike Sam.  
"It's not like Winchester's a common name."  
The woman struggled for something to say. _But what do you say when your son finds out you've been lying to him for thirteen years?_  
Sam turned his head, and Mary flinched. Not just at the sight of the yellowing bruises across his face, but the expression of complete and utter betrayal. She'd betrayed him so many ways, she thought. She was supposed to protect him, and she didn't. She was supposed to never keep the truth from him, and she had. In more ways than he realised.  
"How come you never told me?"  
Before Mary could answer, Sam turned away from her, pulling his broken arm close to his chest and ducking his head. Mary's heart beat painfully, a wave of emotional crashing over her. Fear, worry, hurt, shame, self-loathing, hate, concern, shock; it all swept over her and clamoured for priority in her head. She stood up and stepped back, for the first time in her life unsure of what to do.

**/\/\**

Dean woke with a pounding headache. He groaned, feeling his shoulder throbbing. He blinked, finding himself staring up at the ceiling of his room. _What am I doing here?_  
The memories flooded back, and as soon as they did there was that pain in his chest. He bit his lip.  
"Dean? Are you okay? What happened?"  
Dean shuddered at the familiar voice. He restrained the worst of his temper and looked at his father sitting beside him. The worry and concern etched on his face showed he had no idea of what Dean knew. Dean glared at him coldly.  
"You lying son of a bitch. How could you lie to me like that?"  
Shock dropped like a ten-tonne weight onto his father, and he didn't speak for a moment. Eventually his face set in blank grimness and he spoke.  
"How did you figure it out?"  
"Oh, the spitting image of the woman in my memories just walked into Sam's room. Sam called her Mum. I connected the dots," Dean spat.  
"You knew. You knew the second I told you about Sam, and you didn't say anything. You knew who he was when I told you about him being beaten up by his dad. You knew who he was when he called for help. Why didn't you do anything? How could you just stand there when your son was being beaten to death by a sadistic psychopath?"  
"Don't accuse me, Dean. You have no idea."  
"No, I don't! Because for thirteen years you lied to me! You said it was just you and me! Why?"  
"Because I couldn't deal with it Dean! She left, and that was the way it was supposed to stay."  
"This is about Mum? You let Sam almost die because you didn't want to face Mum?" the shock outweighed the anger in Dean's voice.  
"I didn't want to believe it," John said quietly "I didn't want to believe it was that bad."  
"Well it was, and he nearly died because of you," Dean hissed.  
John ran a hand through his hair. It was all crashing down around him now. Conflicting emotions raged, vying for his attention. Dean had no idea. He'd wanted so many times to see Sam again, but the knowledge he'd have to see Mary had stopped him. They hadn't left on the best of terms. In fact, they'd left after three hours of yelling and screaming at each other. They'd argued over the kids, over what they were going to do. He still wasn't sure who'd come up with it, but one of them had suggested the fateful split. And every day he kicked himself for agreeing to it. Every day he relived that moment when he picked up a worried toddler, holding him close as Mary gently lifted Sam from the cot and stormed out. His heart was torn as he watched her drive away, heard Dean ask, "Where's Mummy and Sammy going?". It'd been patched up over the years, by throwing himself into hunting, the only thing he could do. Now it was all coming apart, his lies were coming out, his cowardice now on show.  
"That baby. The one I keep dreaming about. It's Sam, isn't it?" Dean asked, sounding as though he already knew the answer.  
John stood up, looking down at his oldest son. His anger was growing, taking over. He had to leave before he did something to his son he'd regret. He laughed drily inside. He'd done plenty of that already.  
"Dad, don't you walk out on me."  
John walked towards the door.  
"Dad! Don't you dare walk out that door!"

John shut the door quietly behind him.

**The revelation! Finally! So, what did you think of the latest chapter? Reviews loved and welcomed! Hugs to those who review XD **


	13. I'm Scared, and Where Are You?

**Does anyone think I'm going a little over the top or extreme with the boys' reactions? I mean, they've only known each other for about a week. IDK, what do you guys think? **

**Thanks for all your reviews, I love you all and hugs to you!**

_I sob, the hot tears streaking down my face and landing in the puddle of blood I lay in. Hysterical laughter echoes above me. I bite down on the gag, willing myself not to make a sound. It only spurs him on, makes the wounds he inflicts hurt more as he cuts deeper. Every deeper cut is a time I cried out. Blood mixes with my tears, soaking into the rug below me, staining it scarlet red._

_Someone's pounding on the door. It's him! He came! I hold back a groan of relief as the wild-haired psycho drops the knife, wipes blood from his arm.  
"You keep your mouth shut, or I'll murder whoever's at the door, got it? No matter who it is, they'll die right here," Jason gestures to the bloodied living room-turned-torture room around him. I nod weakly.  
"And then I'll kill you. So shut it."  
He walks away towards the door. Panic wells up, and I stare at the empty doorway, willing with everything that I am that Dean will walk through. I hear Jason open the door, talk to whoever's outside. I hear Dean's voice, angry, and relief washes in.  
"Sam!" Dean yells.  
I freeze. He needs me to call out, to assure him that I'm here. I can't! He'll die! I can't do that to him!  
"Sam?"  
Oh God, I can't take this anymore. Aching, dull pain floats around me, and I know that soon I'll be feeling that white hot, searing pain again when Jason returns. I can't do it, I can't...  
I scream.  
It's muffled through the wire-bound gag, but I scream my heart out. And I pray to God that Jason doesn't hurt him._

_I hear a scuffle at the door. Punches being through, fist hitting flesh with soft thumps, head hitting floors with sharp cracks. I close my eyes, unwilling to see the victor of this battle.  
"You screwed up Sam."  
Oh God. Terror races down my nerves at lightning speed, jolting my eyes open and towards the doorway. He stands there, light from the hall shining from behind and silhouetting him like an angel. How much more wrong could you get? In his grip is Dean's neck. He struggles, and I scream again, begging with muffled words for Jason to let him go, to punish me instead. I'm the one who did wrong, I'm the one who called out. Don't hurt him!  
"You screwed up big time. Now I'm going to have to kill him."  
Tears fall faster, and I struggle against the thin metal that binds me. No! He can't! Dean looks at me with determination, but I can see the fear behind his eyes.  
The knife is in his hand before I can see him move, and it slices down. Blood sprays a fountain over me, and I close my eyes. I can't see it. I can't.  
"It's your fault Sam. It's your fault."  
I open my eyes, and scream. Dean's lying there, a pool of blood quickly pooling around him. His neck sliced open, so far his head is almost severed. Blood pumps, still pumps, adding to growing tide. Bile rises in the back of my throat, nowhere to go. Horror overcomes me.  
"I told you," Jason sneered._

Mary looked up as Sam started to shake. She put a hand on his arm, which he promptly threw off and sat bolt upright. A heart-wrenching scream tore loose from his lips.  
"DEAN!"  
Mary grabbed her son's shoulders. He was staring blankly ahead, his body still shaking violently. She shook him, tried to break him out of his trance-like state. He flung out an arm instinctively, his hand smacking Mary across the face and forcing her to let go in shock. Tears started to fall, but he didn't seem to be aware. In seconds, a doctor and some nurses entered the room, looking for the reason for the scream. The moment they saw Sam, they leaped into action. One of the nurses moved towards Mary, helping her up. The doctor tried to calm Sam down, whilst the second nurse ran out the door.  
"Sam?" the doctor said slowly, putting her hand gently on his shoulder.  
The kid reacted violently. He sent the woman sprawling to the floor with a flailing fist. He screamed again.  
"DEAN! NO!"  
The second nurse returned, and helped the doctor up before handing her something. Mary put a hand to her face as the doctor slipped the needle into Sam's arm.  
"What..."  
"A sedative. It'll calm him down."  
A minute later, his shaking faded and he dropped back onto the bed, knocked out.

**/\/\**

The piercing scream reached his ears, and Dean woke immediately. The voice was unmistakable, the terror obvious. He tried to stand. And found that someone was holding him down.  
"Dean, calm down," a familiar voice said.  
Dean turned to see his father standing there, his hand pressed firmly down on his shoulder.  
"What the fuck are you doing? Sam..."  
"If you try to get up you'll rip your stiches again. Don't make them sedate you."  
Dean swore violently and moved to punch his father in the face. John simply ducked.  
"Dean, they'll will strap you down if they have to," John said.  
"I'd like to see you try. Son of a bitch!" the curse shot from his mouth as pain raced along his nerves in his shoulder. It'd been pleasantly numb until now. Dean winced.  
"Please, Dean, just calm down."  
"Like hell I am. Get off me!"

At that moment, the screams stopped. Dean froze, his mind running through what could possibly have happened.  
"He'll be sedated now," John said, his tone neutral. Dean growled and swung his fist again, swearing as pain ripped through him again. The punch fell far short and John just watched him blankly.  
"You bastard. Didn't you hear him? He needs me right now!"  
"Dean! Would you just shut up? We're leaving in a few days!"  
Dean stared, his mouth slightly open.  
"What?"  
"We're leaving town."  
"But the creature..."  
"There's been no sign of it for days," John said, and Dean instantly knew he was lying; he'd heard that tone before. He was silent for a moment, thinking.  
"Your lying. Again. You just don't want to face Mary, do you? You're more afraid of her than you are of this monster!"  
John stood up suddenly, startling Dean. He looked down, his face thunderous.  
"I'm not going to take your crap! I'm keeping you away from Sam for his good as well as yours. Now you'd better stop talking back like that," John glared at his son, expressing as much anger as he could without smashing something.  
Dean's jaw tightened, and he fixed his father with a sharp stony glare. John kept his anger on show, but inside he was kicking himself for what he was doing.  
"Yes sir."  
John nodded, and walked from the room.

Dean waited for a moment to give his father time to walk away, then proceeded to try and get off the bed. A small noise from the door made him stop. He distinctly recognised the click.  
"You bastard," Dean muttered, sliding off the bed and making his way to the door. He jiggled the door handle. It was locked.  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, slamming his fist into the door "You can't do this!"  
He pounded on the door for a few minutes, yelling out whatever obscenities came to mind. Eventually, his arm tired, and his shoulder was screaming at him. With a choked sigh, he fell onto his bed, the aching feeling of betrayal weighing down his chest.

**I'm so evil to the poor brothers. And just to recap, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. I simply do evil things to them and laugh XD Mwahaha**

**Reviews always loved and appreciated! **

**This story has completely changed from what I expected it to be. Right about the tenth or eleventh chapter the story started taking its own course. Even I'm not 100% sure what's going to happen in the next chapter. I have a vague ending though, so at least I have some direction, otherwise I'll just wander aimlessly and the story will be neverending :P**


	14. I Try To Help But I Only Make It Worse

**Thanks for the reassurance on the boys' reactions everyone! I was a little worried :P Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and hugs to crazybookworm95, cold kagome, vampyfreak and astafir! Now, on with chapter 14! It's a little short, this one.**

Sam woke the next morning, his head throbbing and his hand sore. He blinked and sat up, confused. Looking around, he couldn't see Dean, just... his mother, asleep in the chair. Where was Dean?  
Trying not to wake Mary, Sam tried to silently slip off the bed. As his feet touched the ground, the wounds around his ankles shot a sharp pain up his legs. He gasped.  
"Sam? Sam, what are you doing?" he heard his mother say with shock.  
She ran around to the other side of the bed and kneeled in front of him, bringing herself down to his eye level. He looked away from her.  
"Sam? Are you okay?"  
"Where's Dean?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes averted from her.  
Mary swallowed. John, being childish, had asked a nurse to tell her that Dean wasn't going to be seeing Sam anymore. He was being discharged tomorrow, then they were leaving town. She wans't sure how to break the news to her son.  
"Dean's... not coming," she said.  
Sam froze, "W...wha..."  
"He's leaving, with his Dad. They're not coming back."  
Sam blinked, trying to take it all in. Dean wasn't coming. Dean was leaving him here. He'd said Jason was with the cops, but who knew? What if he got off? What if he came looking for him again?

Mary watched helplessly as her son sat on the edge of the bed, his fractured mind still trying to figure it all out. She wanted to slap John; she really did. He was being immature and his decision was hurting her son. _Their_ son.  
"He's... not coming back?"  
"No, sweetheart, he's leaving."  
Mary hugged him gently, trying not to press on any healing bruises or other injuries. Sam just sat there, not responding or moving at all.  
Dean was gone. He was gone. Was it something he'd done? Maybe he should have done something. He should have stopped him from getting hurt. He'd been stabbed and now his dad was taking him away. If he hadn't gotten hurt, he wouldn't be leaving.

Sam didn't notice that Mary had gently picked him up and, awkwardly, put him back on the bed. He didn't notice that nurses and doctors came throughout the day, talking to him and giving him medication. He didn't notice that his mother was crying.

All he noticed was that Dean was gone.

**/\/\**

Dean reached over his shoulder, trying to get to the back of his shoulder. If he ripped the stiches again, maybe he'd stay longer and he could find a way to get to Sam. He stretched his fingers, reaching as far as he could but they just wouldn't touch the awkward place that Jason had stabbed him. He growled, trying harder.

Just then, there was a click at the door as it was unlocked, and Dean quickly pulled his hand back and lay down. John walked in a moment later.  
"You alright?" he asked in that gruff 'I don't care but I do' voice he always seemed to use around Dean.  
The teenager glared, and didn't speak. John sighed.  
"You can't keep silent forever Dean. You're just gonna have to accept that some things you can't change."  
Dean looked away pointedly and folded his arms. He knew he was being childish, but he also knew that if he said anything to his father, it'd be something that ignited a temper and started an argument that would begin with sarcasm, mature into bitchy comments and end bloody. John sighed.  
"You're acting like a child."  
Dean swore and stared at his father with dark animosity.  
"I'm acting like a child? You're the one who won't let his sons be together because of some petty fight you had with your ex-wife!"  
"You don't know what you're talking about Dean, so keep your mouth shut!"  
"No, I don't know, because you never tell me anything! Every time I say anything about Mum or Sam you tell me to shut my mouth! How am I ever supposed to know..."  
"Dean, I don't want to hear anymore of your crap!"  
"Then you should probably get out."  
John stared at his son, and Dean glared back.  
"And stay out," his son spat.

John stood up, trying to reign in his temper. Dean needed to remember who was in charge. John sighed, figuring that a few weeks away from Sam would bring the old Dean back. He hoped. He left the room, locking it behind him.

Dean swore to himself, cursing his father. He had no idea what Sam was going through! If he were honest though, neither did he, but Dean had been the one to save him when John had hesitated. Now his father was punishing his son for his own mistake. Dean growled in frustration, grabbing the closest object he could find and hurling it at the wall in front of him. The soft thump of the pillow was a little unsatisfactory, and Dean scowled. He couldn't think of anything he could do to get out. His father had done a damn good job of keeping small sharp objects away from him so he didn't pick the lock, and there was always more than one person in the room so he couldn't fight his way out. There just seemed to be no way out.

**/\/\**

"Sam?" Mary asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond; he just stared blankly into space. Mary tried shaking him gently, but it did nothing. She waved a hand in front of his face. Still nothing. It was like he was in a trance, and nothing could break him out of it.  
"What's wrong with him?" Mary asked Dr. Fletcher. The woman, the one that Sam had punched in the face accidentally and who was now Dr. Mills' replacement, shook her head.  
"We think he's just gone into a type of shock," she said.  
Mary frowned, confused.  
Fletcher explained, "When the body or mind is under severe stress, sometimes they just shut down. The person is still alive and functioning, but either goes into a coma or a trance-like state, where they can't be woken. Usually things like familiar voices and people help to bring them out."  
"He's been like this for hours now!" Mary said, glancing at her son.  
"These trances can last for days, weeks, even months. There have been cases where the person just slipped away whilst in one of these comas."  
Mary swallowed. Her son was sat on the bed, staring straight ahead, not moving at all. The only signs that he hadn't died and frozen was his chest moving slightly as he breathed, and the droning beep of the heart monitor he was attached to. She nodded, thanking the doctor and asking to be left alone. She turned to her son. Her heart was breaking seeing him like this, and she knew there was only one way Sam was going to come out of his trance. But it meant she had to talk to John.

She sighed. They hadn't left on the best of terms. She'd yelled her heart out to John, and somehow in that argument, someone had come up with the decision to split the brothers up. She still wasn't totally sure it wasn't her. In the heat of an argument she could come up with many strange and untrue things. But whoever had come up with the suggestion, she couldn't forgive herself for agreeing to it. She'd taken Sam, and stormed out, the fury on her face a lie. She'd been kicking herself, hating herself for doing this to her sons. The look on Dean's face when she'd turned away from him with Sam had killed her. The small voice she'd heard asking where Mummy and Sammy were going as she stomped down the stairs had broken hear heart. And she still hadn't forgiven herself for not going back. Now Sam was in danger, and her petty argument with her ex-husband was going to kill him.

She straightened up, nodding to herself. No more. No more avoiding each other and being immature. She was going to face John, and she was going to make sure that Sam got better, if it was the last thing she did.

**Oooh, Mary's on a mission! And poor Sammy! What do you think? Reviews rewarded with hugs! Next chapter coming soon!**


	15. This Ends Now

**Here it is, chapter 15! Finally, Mary does something! John needs a kick up the butt right about now :P Thanks for the reviews, hugs and cookies to you all!**

Mary walked down the hall, checking every room she passed. Room after room turned up empty of the man she was looking for and she kept searching the halls. She asked doctors and nurses she passed, asking about the whereabouts of either John or Dean. In the end, she got directions to Dean's room. She figured if he were anywhere, it'd be there.

She reached the door of room 276, and grabbed the handle. Jiggling it, she found it locked. She frowned. Just what was going on? Turning, she headed away from the room and kept searching.

At last she found him, walking down the hall towards Dean's room. When he saw her, he froze, and bit his lip. Mary wasn't surprised. She was on the warpath and she probably looked as mad as hell. She stalked over to him.

"Mary," he said.  
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing John Winchester?" Mary demanded, putting her hands on her hips.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I'm talking about taking Dean away, locking him up. What the hell are you doing?"  
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Mary waited for his answer, tapping her foot.  
"It's for the best. They're getting too attached, and we're leaving..."  
"I got your message. The one you gave to the doctor. Damn it, John, you're an adult! You can talk to me face to face!"  
"After last time, I'm not sure I wanted to."  
Mary paused. She could see where he was coming from. She hadn't wanted to talk to him either, but when it came to the safety of her child, she'd do many things she wouldn't normally do. Like talk to the ex-husband she hadn't seen in thirteen years who probably hated her guts.

"Look, Sam needs Dean. You can't honestly think that splitting them up again is going to do them good," Mary said.  
"Dean and I are leaving. Sam's gonna have to learn how to function on his own. He's been doing it for thirteen years, he can keep on doing it," John said coldly.  
"Would you listen to yourself?" Mary said, shocked "This is your son you're talking about!"  
"I figured he was yours now. He's the one you chose."  
"That's what this is about? That's so immature, John! Sam is as much your child as Dean is mine! And I seem to recall that you picked Dean up first," Mary folded her arms as John swore.  
"I don't want to get into it."  
"No, because the great John Winchester doesn't talk about his feelings, does he?"  
"Is there a point to this?"  
"Sam needs Dean," Mary said simply.  
"He hasn't needed him before," John replied.  
"He wasn't always on his deathbed," Mary snapped, losing what little patience she had left.  
John frowned, looking confused, "The doctor said he was going to be fine..."  
"If you'd bothered to check on your _son_," Mary said, making John blink. Not flinch. John Winchester didn't flinch "You'd know he isn't. He's in a bloody coma. The moment I told him Dean was leaving, he fell into a trance and no one has been able to get him out."

John sighed, leaning against the wall. He was silent, contemplating this piece of news, before he spoke.  
"He's going to die?" he asked, looking up with worry. It made Mary pause. She'd figured he didn't care; otherwise he would have at least checked in on Sam. But the look in his eyes was the complete opposite to what she'd expected, to what she'd even thought John could ever look like. He looked worried, and he looked _scared_.  
"Yeah. If he doesn't wake up he's probably going to just slip away," she said, her voice coming out low and shaking.

John sagged against the wall, hands to his face. He didn't move for a moment. Then he dropped his hands and stood up straight.  
"Mary, I'm going to get straight to the point. I'm doing this for Dean, and I'm doing this for Sam," he said, his voice choking on Sam's name "Not you."  
"I wouldn't have expected it any other way. Now you bloody let Dean out, or I will," Mary said, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. It'd be a long time before she smiled at John again, but it was a start.  
"Oh really? And just what would you do?" John chuckled drily.  
"I'd break the door down," Mary said in all seriousness.

**/\/\**

Dean looked away from the door as he heard a click, and the soft sound of air rushing as it opened.  
"Dean?"  
"Fuck off Dad," Dean kept his eyes away.  
He frowned when there was no response. John would never let his son get away with talk like that. He turned his head slowly and stared. John stood in the doorway and, a few paces from his bedside, was Mary. His mother.  
There was a long, awkward pause as each tried to think of something to say that wouldn't cause someone to lose their temper. At last, Mary spoke.  
"Dean..."  
Dean flinched as she spoke. He'd only ever heard her yelling or angry, even in his memories. Never like this. It was soft, gentle, and there was a hint of fear. He was so wrapped up in thinking about how strange it sounded he almost didn't hear what she said next.  
"Sam needs you."  
It took him a moment to process that thought. The moment he realised what she meant, he stared at his dad. John just looked at the floor with sadness.

In a flash, Dean was sliding out of bed. He winced at the pain in his shoulder, but nothing would have stopped him at that moment. Mary stepped out of his way and John cleared the doorway as Dean almost ran from the room and towards room 281.

He skidded to a stop outside the door and hesitated, his hand on the door handle. What Mary had said was sinking it properly. Sam needed him. What did that mean? Was he okay? Was he... Dean didn't even want the think the word, but it popped up nonetheless, spreading fear through his mind like a disease.  
_Dying?  
_Dean opened the door quietly, afraid of what he might find on the other side. Mary and John watched him from at the other end of the hall, wondering how he would react, but knowing they'd done the right thing.

Dean could only stare. Sam was sat on the bed, blankly staring into space, unmoving. He looked like he was frozen, although his chest moved with his breathing and he was blinking, albeit rarely. Dean took a step towards him, afraid. What had happened? What was wrong with him?

Carefully, Dean touched Sam's right hand. He felt a little cold, and there was no response from Sam.

In that moment, Dean's heart well and truly broke. It shattered. He climbed up onto the bed, ignoring the screaming protest from his shoulder, and hugged his brother tightly, swaying. He buried his face in Sam's hair. He didn't care that he was crying, tears streaming down his face. He didn't care that he was nearly eighteen and probably looked like an idiot. He didn't care at all.

"What did they do to you Sammy?" Dean murmured through his tears "What happened?"  
He stayed like that for a while, not letting go of his brother. Nurses came and went, looking at the two boys with sympathy and sadness. But Dean didn't see them, didn't care.

For the rest of the day, Dean sat there, mumbling into Sam's hair, swaying and holding his brother tightly. By the time darkness fell, the long shadows of sunset fading away into night, nothing had changed. Sam hadn't moved and neither had Dean.

**/\/\**

Mary and John watched them for a while through the door, hoping something would happen. But after an hour had passed and nothing had occurred, they sadly shook their heads and left. By nightfall John was asleep in the waiting room, and Mary was drifting off.

**/\/\**

Dean stayed with Sam through the night, never moving except to mutter something to him.

**Looks like Mary and John are giving up hope. But don't you give up hope, dear readers! There's more to come soon! Hugs and cookies available to those who review :D**


	16. Expected and Unexpected Decisions

**Behold, chapter 16! Thanks for everyone's lovely reviews, hugs and cookies to you all!**

Morning's light streamed in through the window, patterns playing in the wall opposite it, casting shadows of the two boys on the wall. Neither had moved throughout the night.

Dean was still muttering to Sam, telling him he was sorry, saying he wasn't going anywhere ever again. He was just trying to fill in the horrible silence that choked the room whenever he was quiet. He was so busy talking to Sam about what he was going to do if anyone tried to take him away that he almost didn't notice the slight change the kid made. Dean froze as he felt Sam's rigid posture start to relax. Just a little, but enough to be noticed. He lifted his head and looked at him. Little by little, Sam was relaxing, slumping back against Dean. The teenager held his breath, wondering if Sam was finally coming out of his trance.

A moment later his question was answered. Sam was limp in Dean's hold, and slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Dean couldn't hold back an ecstatic grin. Sam looked up at him, confused.  
"D..Dean?"  
"Hey buddy," Dean smiled.  
"Mu...said you... were leaving," Sam mumbled.  
"No way, kiddo. I'm staying here."  
Sam glanced at Dean for a moment, then smiled weakly.  
Dean grinned and hugged him.  
"M'hungry," Sam complained after a moment.  
Dean laughed softly, "I'll bet you are."

**/\/\**

John woke suddenly, glancing around to find whatever had woken him. He could see nothing besides Mary on the other side of the room, asleep in a chair. Sunlight shined in from the window behind him, lighting up her face. He bit back a smile. She looked so beautiful.  
The door opened and a brunette woman walked in. John recognised her as the doctor Mary had introduced him to. Sam's doctor. He sat up, desperately hoping for good news. Mary awoke to the sound of the door and looked around tiredly. When she saw Dr. Fletcher, first hope then fear crossed her face.  
"Is it bad?" she whispered.  
Fletcher smiled and shook her head.  
"He just woke up. I thought you'd like to know immediately."  
Mary and John exchanged a glance, then a smile. They stood up and almost ran to Sam's room.

**/\/\**

Dean looked up when he heard the door open. That brunette doctor had already been here and had seemed excited, rushing out almost instantly. He hadn't expected her to be back so soon.  
His heart fell and his grip on Sam tightened when he saw Mary and John walk in.

A smile lit up Mary's face, and John looked like he was hiding one. Mary rushed forward towards Sam. The kid was resting his head on Dean's chest, oblivious. Dean growled at Mary, making Sam look up.  
"You're not taking him away again," Dean hissed. Sam looked from Dean to his mother, unsure of what was going on. Mary looked shocked.  
"I...I'm not!"  
"I don't believe you."  
Dean circled one arm around Sam protectively, and the kid looked scared. John stepped forward, and Dean glared daggers at him.  
"Back off. You're not separating us again," he said.  
"Dean, we aren't going to. Mary just wants to see Sam. And I wanted to see you. We aren't going to split you two up again, I promise," John said.  
"I'm not sure I can trust you anymore, Dad."  
John looked shocked, and he stepped back. Sam grabbed Dean's arm and looked up.  
"He's not gonna make you leave, is he?"  
"No way, Sam. No way in hell," Dean assured him.

The teenager looked back to John, and the cold distrust in his eyes stabbed at his heart. _It's your own fault, _he berated himself _You shouldn't have lied to him in the first place. No wonder he doesn't trust you.  
_Mary took another step forward, and Dean shifted his venomous glare to her.  
"Look, Dean, I promise. We aren't gonna split you up. Not again. I just wanna see Sam. Please?"  
Dean glanced down at Sam for his opinion. The kid looked from Dean to his mother, then back again.  
"I...I think...I trust her. Just...don't go anywhere," he said.  
"'Course not buddy. I'll be right here," Dean said and, with a final angry glance to Mary, moved his arm and slid off the bed. Dean kept his hand in Sam's left, staring at his father as if to dare 'come on, try it'.  
Mary rushed over and hugged her son. He hesitantly put his right arm around her, his grip on Dean's hand tightening. Dean didn't let go.  
"Are you okay sweetheart?" Mary asked when she pulled back.  
"Yeah I'm... fine. What happened?"  
"You went into shock. You were in a trance for about 24 hours, but you woke up this morning," Mary replied with a smile.  
"I remember you saying that Dean was... leaving."  
Dean gave a glare to his father that, if looks could kill, would have murdered him a thousand times over.  
"He was, but now he's not. He's staying, isn't he John?" Mary said, flicking a glance to her ex. He nodded.  
"Dean's not going anywhere."  
He returned a stare to Dean, although with less hatred and more apology. Dean didn't seem to notice or care about the emotion in the stare.

Sam nodded, and Mary stepped back. Dean took this as his cue and jumped up onto the edge of the bed, one arm now around Sam's shoulders.  
Dr. Fletcher suddenly opened the door and gestured for Mary and John to follow her. They did so, leaving Dean talking to Sam. Outside, Fletcher looked at them with a smile.  
"Is he okay?" Mary asked.  
"He seems to be. Physically, he's almost ready to go home," Fletcher said "His bruises are fading, his broke arm can heal at home and so can the wounds on his wrists and ankles. The dressings will just need changing. I'm sure you all want to head home. I can discharge him tomorrow if you like."  
Mary beamed, and John couldn't hide his small smile.  
"That's wonderful news, thank you," Mary said. Fletcher nodded, and turned to leave.

Mary ducked back inside Sam's room. Sam and Dean looked up in worry.  
"Guess what?" Mary said.  
The boys waited. Mary grinned.  
"Dr. Fletcher said you can go home tomorrow Sam."  
Sam, instead of being happy or excited like Mary had expected, looked terrified. Dean held him tight.  
"What's the matter?" she asked.  
"I don't wanna go back. I don't wanna go back there. He...he..." Sam hiccupped, burying his head in Dean's chest. Dean hugged him. Mary wanted to kick herself. Of course, how stupid of her! Sam would be terrified of going back to their place!  
"Hey, don't worry," Dean soothed "You know what? You can stay with us. Okay? No worries, you can stay with me and we won't have to get split up again. Then he won't be able to find you either. He doesn't know where I live. You'll be safe there."

Mary frowned. She wasn't sure she wanted to live in the same house as John again; not after last time. But when she saw how scared Sam was, and how Dean was calming him down, she knew she didn't really have a choice. She'd promised not to split them up anyway. It really was the only logical option. That just left running it past John.

She stepped outside, looking at John with a raised eyebrow. He looked at her strangely.  
"Sam freaked. Now Dean's saying we're all going to stay at your place."  
John stared at her blankly. A moment later it sunk in, and he tried to say something.  
"I..."  
"It's already been decided apparently. And God knows I'm not splitting the two of the up again."  
John sighed; he could see her point. It just annoyed him that he wasn't in control of the situation. But there was no two ways about it. He rolled his eyes. Mary managed a tiny smile.  
"Looks like it's back to old time, eh?"  
"Let's hope not."

**Aww, they're all getting back together! But getting back together after thirteen years and a massive argument that changed four lives isn't going to be easy. Reviews loved and rewarded with hugs and cookies! r&r!**


	17. It's Not Your Fault

**Chapter 17, hope you enjoy! Hugs and cookies to those who reviewed!**

Dean waited outside as Sam got changed. Mary and John were waiting down at the entrance, sorting out paperwork or something; Dean hadn't heard and to be honest he didn't really care. His mind was full with thoughts about Sam and his recovery. He was hoping, wishing, that Sam would be okay, and eventually go back to that sarcastic, funny kid that he'd met on that first day back at school.

The door opened, and Sam walked out carefully. Dean turned to him instantly, looking him over. Dressed in jeans and a red shirt, he looked relatively normal. But the cast on his arm and the bandages on his wrists gave away the fact that he wasn't. The bruises had all but faded, the shallow cuts had healed and the deeper cuts were almost gone. Sam looked up at Dean with a half-smile. Dean grinned. It wasn't a smile, but it was close.  
"You ready to go?" he asked.  
"Yeah, guess so," Sam replied.  
The pair walked down the hall, heading for where their parents were waiting.

"Sam, you okay?" Mary asked as Sam and Dean came into view.  
Sam just nodded, looking around nervously at the other people in the waiting room. Dean put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. Mary nodded and, with John leading the way, the four left the hospital.

Outside, Dean couldn't help but smile as he saw the Impala.  
"You cleaned her up?"  
"As best I could," John replied, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to remind Sam of that night. The kid was already anxious, and gripping Dean's hand like the world would end if he let go.  
John took the driver's seat, and Mary slid into the passenger side. Dean helped Sam into the back, then followed him.  
"Off we go," John muttered under his breath, turning the engine on and pulling out of the hospital car park.

**/\/\**

Dean awoke with a start as the engine cut off. He glanced around. It was dark; the sun had almost set and there was only a few rays of gold light still peeking out from the horizon. He vaguely remembered driving down the highway, his father at the wheel. Now, Mary was turning in the driver's seat to look at him. He felt someone leaning against him and glanced down to see Sam with his head against Dean's shoulder, asleep.  
"We're staying here for the night," John said from the passenger seat.  
Dean looked out the window to see the familiar sight of a motel. He nodded, and gently shook Sam.

The reaction was instantaneous. Sam's eyes opened wide for a split second and he scrambled backwards. He pressed himself against the door, panic on his face.  
"Woah! Sam, calm down," Dean said, holding his hands out.  
Sam stared at him for a moment, breathing hard, muscles tensed. Slowly, he started to relax.  
"I...sorry," he mumbled, slumping against the door.

Mary and John glanced at each other, not really wanting to know.

**/\/\**

"What happens now?" Sam asked suddenly.  
Dean turned to him. They were sat on one of the beds in the motel room, Sam swinging his legs in what had been silence. He frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
"My life just changed forever. Your life just changed forever. My st..." Sam trailed off, closing his eyes, his body visibly shaking. Dean put a hand on his arm, and Sam opened his eyes.  
"He's gone, so what happens now?" Sam looked at Dean curiously, a trace of fear on his face "He is gone, isn't he?"  
"Yeah, yeah, he is," Dean assured him "And I guess we just go on. Y'know, go back to school, do whatever it was we did before...all this happened."  
"Before this I was getting beaten up every other day," Sam said, only a slight hitch in his voice "What do I go back to?"  
Dean shrugged, "Go back to before."  
"I can't just block out the last three years of my life."  
Dean stared. He hadn't figured it'd been that long. Three years was a long time to suffer at the hands of someone like Jason. He shuddered.  
Sam seemed to know what Dean was thinking, and said "Mum married...him when I was nine. When she started her job and left for days at a time, that's when it started."

Dean didn't say anything; just let that fact run through his head. For three years his little brother had been abused by that... creep, and he hadn't known. No one had known. When he was out fighting monsters and saving people, Sam had been subjected to beatings and violence and had been in need of saving.

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.  
"For what? You saved my life, you're the one who actually did something. What are you sorry for?"  
"For not being there earlier. For not being there to beat the crap outta the guy. For not being able to stop it in the first place."  
"That's not your fault. I'd like to say it's Mum's fault, and your...our Dad's, but they were just doing what they thought was right at the time," Sam said.  
Dean smirked. Sam being the voice of reason in this situation sounded almost absurd.  
"Right for them, not for us. They were being selfish gits," Dean argued.  
"I'm not saying they did do the right thing. They just thought they did. Just like you thought you were doing the right thing when you called CPS," Sam said with a sad half-smile.

Dean knew Sam hadn't meant it in a mean way, but his words hit him hard, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Sam had almost died because he'd called CPS. Sam had been tortured and was close to being murdered because Dean had tried to help. Dean sighed, leaning his head in his hands.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Sam smirked at his own joke, and Dean rolled his eyes at him.  
"Aww, enough of the chick flick moments," Dean groaned, leaning back on the bed.

**/\/\**

Jason Wesson walked confidently down the hall, the two police officers by his side. He smiled arrogantly, looking down lazily to the cop on his left, then his right. The second, a strong-looking dark-haired man in his thirties raised his eyebrow.  
"What're you smiling at?"  
Jason just chuckled.  
"Nothing."

**Hah, I didn't forget about Jason. There's still a bit to go :D Hope you liked! Hugs and cookies for reviewers XD**


	18. Bad Timing

**I'm sorry, the last few chapters have been a little short, and so is this one. But trust me, there will be some action soon! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, people, I love them! Hugs and cookies! Now, on with the story :)**

John sighed quietly as the news came on. He glanced at Mary as the international headlines played on the screen. He couldn't be bothered listening to everyone else's problems when he had enough of his own right here. Mary had her eyes closed, but John knew she wasn't asleep. Her eyelids flickered open for a millisecond every once in a while, as if making sure nothing had changed since she had last closed her eyes.

Suddenly a phone started ringing. Mary jumped, and reached for her pocket. Frowning, she glanced at John before answering the call. John watched her as she spoke.  
"Hello?"  
There was a pause as Mary listened to whoever was speaking on the other end. She looked more and more confused as the silence grew longer.  
"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're getting at."  
Another strained silence, and John leaned forward as Mary's face changed. Now she was scared; absolutely terrified.  
"How the fuck did that happen, you useless bastards!" she yelled, covering her fear with anger "If something bad comes of all this, I swear to God I will kill the lot of you!"  
John stood up as Mary violently slammed the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket. She looked at her ex with anger, then fear.  
"What happened?" John asked.  
Mary didn't move for a moment, before collapsing. John reached out and caught her, holding her against his chest.  
"What is it? What's the matter?" he demanded, looking at her.

At that moment, Dean poked his head around the doorframe, curious and worried. Sam was right behind him with a similar expression.  
"What's going on?" Dean asked "We heard yelling."  
John shrugged and glanced at Mary helplessly. She swallowed and looked at the two boys.  
"That was..."

Suddenly, Sam screamed, leaping backwards and looking as terrified as a mouse cornered by a cat. Dean turned and frantically tried to calm him down. He switched his gaze from Sam to Mary and John in confusion.

John turned as he heard the words being spoke by the news presenter on the still-running TV. He stared as he listened.

"The man escaped from the Forreston police station early this morning. Jason Wesson, being held on charges of horrific abuse to his stepson, Sam Wesson, managed to escape by attacking his two guards and stealing their weapons. No police were seriously injured in the escape, although one is in hospital recovering from a bullet to the shoulder. Jason Wesson is believed to still be armed, and people in the area are advised to take care. I repeat, this man is armed and dangerous. Do not approach him."

John stared at Mary, then Dean and Sam as the presenter carried on. Sam was sat against the wall, crying and holding onto Dean with such force he could have crushed the air out of his chest. Dean was knelt beside him, talking quietly to him and ruffling his hair, trying his best to calm the fearful boy. Mary just stared in shock.  
"I'm guessing that was the cops on the phone," John said.  
Mary nodded, "Great timing, eh? Bloody useless bastards. How the fuck he managed to escape is beyond me, but he isn't getting anywhere near Sam. Not if I have anything to do with it."  
She looked at her son, starting to quieten a little.  
"The son of a bitch is gonna pay for what he did to my son," John swore softly, so quietly only Mary heard. She smiled sadly.

Dean managed to get Sam away from the TV, and sat him down on one of the beds. Sam was still panicky, and tears were still flowing freely down his face.  
"He...he...he's supposed...to be...gone," Sam hiccupped.  
"I know, he is. And they're gonna find him, okay? He's not gonna find you. He's not gonna get anywhere near you. Not if I have anything to do with it," Dean promised.  
"What if... he might hurt you again."  
"No way in hell is that gonna happen. I'll make sure of it."  
Sam didn't look convinced, and Dean hugged him. An idea came to him, and he turned, reaching under his pillow.  
"Here, take this," he said, handing him the wickedly sharp knife. He'd slipped it there earlier, when they'd arrived. He made it a habit. Sam stared at it.  
"You keep that under your pillow?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, not wanting to answer an awkward question like that. It was best if Sam never knew. If Mary had kept him in the dark, then Dean wasn't about to break the news to his abused little brother that there were even more scary monsters out there that could rip him limb from limb.

"Keeps me safe. You never know when you might need it. But you keep it. If he does find you, you can stab him in the face or something."  
"But... don't you need it?"  
"Nah, I'll be fine. You saw Darren at school that day?" Dean asked, wincing as he brought up the day that would be burned into his memory for years.  
Sam nodded.  
"I did that. Totally smashed his nose. I did the same to a doctor who was trying to keep me away from you. So don't worry about me, I can protect myself," Dean smirked.  
Sam managed a small half-smile. He wiped the drying tears from his face, then carefully took the knife. He held it for a moment, running his eyes over it.  
"Thanks."  
"No worries. I'd do anything to protect you," Dean grinned.

**/\/\**

"Took you long enough," Jason muttered.  
It'd been a day since his escape, and for the last hour he'd been waiting for one man to turn up. When he finally did, Jason was relieved.  
"Did you find them?" he asked the muscular, tattooed man standing in front of them.  
"Sort of. Someone saw a '67 Impala screaming out of town a couple of days ago. I got the general direction they were headed."  
Jason nodded. It was a start, and he hadn't been expecting miracle from the guy after only a day of searching. Dan was known in his circles as the guy to go to for information, but even he couldn't discover where an entire family had gone in only one day.  
"So, how many kids again?" Dan asked casually.  
Jason laughed, "As long as I get Sam, you can have the other one. Older teenager with a smart mouth."  
Dan looked at him expectantly, and Jason rolled his eyes.  
"That's your payment. You know I haven't got any cash. I figured the kid would be enough."  
"If he's how you describe him, then I guess he is," Dan smirked.

**Oh noes, Jason! Evil SOB. Reviews loved and hugs and cookies for those who do XD Love to you all who are sticking with this!**


	19. And So It Goes On

**I apologise for how short this chapter is. Kinda of silly to even call it a chapter. I am sorry, but chapter 20 is where everything happens! Bear with me! Wow, 64 reviews? Thanks so much everyone! Thank you Gett for you lovely reviews, as well as everyone else! Hugs and cookies for you XD**

That night, Sam barely slept, for fear that Jason would return. He finally dropped off in the early morning, Dean staying awake to protect him. Mary and John couldn't sleep either, both worrying and wondering what Jason was going to do. It was almost a certainty that the man would try to find Sam or Mary, or both, and John was afraid that he would go after Dean. After all, his son had been the one to save Sam and stick the bastard in jail. When morning's light came, no one in the motel room was asleep, save Sam. He was sleeping lightly, the slightest noise enough to wake him.

"Dad?" Dean asked, looking around the corner and stepping as quietly as possible. His father was leaning against the wall, head in his hands. He looked up as he heard his son's voice.  
"Hey. How's Sam?" he replied tiredly.  
"He's fine. He was asleep when I left."  
"Good. He needs it."

There was a long, awkward pause as the father and son just stared at each other. John knew that Dean still didn't fully trust him, and to be honest, he wasn't surprised. All he hoped was that he'd eventually learn to trust him again. At last, Dean spoke, keeping his voice low and quiet.  
"What are we gonna do?"

John sighed, standing up properly and looking his son in the eye. There was something there he'd only seen a few times before, and never as strong as this. He'd seen that look when he'd been injured and Dean had had to patch him up. Now it was in his eyes again.

"Honestly? I don't know," he said.  
"Can't we go find him? Go hunt the bastard down and kill him?" Dean asked, vengeance creeping into his gaze. John shook his head.  
"I know he's a monster," he said, silencing Dean's protest "And I want him dead as much as you, but if the cops found out, we'd be the first suspects. Especially you. I mean, you stick by Sam like hell will rise if you don't, and you'd be the first the cops would suspect. I don't want that hanging over this family. If he comes here, he will be dead before he gets anywhere near you or Sam, but we can't go after him. This time, we have to leave it to the cops."  
"The cops were the ones who let him escape in the first place. You can't trust them," Dean shot back.

John was about to say something, when a low cry sounded, and Dean tensed. He was gone in an instant. He raced back to his room, leaving John alone. John sighed. That son of a bitch wasn't going to get anywhere near his kids. Not if he had anything to do with it.

"Sam?" Dean said as he rushed into the room.  
Sam was sat on the bed, looking terrified. In his hand was the knife Dean had given him, clutched so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared at Dean in fear.  
"Hey, Sam, it's alright," Dean soothed, sitting down next to him. Sam leaned against him, trembling.  
"You...you weren't...there," Sam managed to get the words out through his body-wracking shakes.  
"I am so sorry Sammy, I was only gone for a moment. You were asleep," Dean replied, putting an arm around his brother.  
"I...I thought...he'd got...got you."  
"Oh God, no Sam! He's never gonna get anyone, I promise. I swear, he is never gonna hurt you again," Dean promised, carefully prising the knife out of Sam's hand. He was going to hurt himself if he kept holding onto it that tightly.

Sam let go as Dean pulled the knife away, and the blade clattered to the floor. Sam wrapped his arms around his older brother, afraid, and Dean hugged him back, vowing over and over in hushed tones that Jason was never coming back, all the while knowing that he could be wrong.

**/\/\**

Jason smirked, leaning back against the wall and watching the motel building across the street. He pulled his cap down, hiding his face in case someone recognised him. He kept his eyes on the door marked with a large 6. The lovely woman at the front desk had been so nice to give him the room number of the Winchesters when he'd said he was a visiting friend. He stared, working out the best way inside and how tricky it would be to execute his plan. It didn't look that hard. He could pick the lock on the door, get inside, complete his plan and be out of there before anyone knew.

Walking away, Jason flicked a glance back to the motel with the Chevy Impala parked in the car park. He shook his head with a smirk. That bitch Mary weren't going to know what hit her when she woke up and found Sam and Dean gone.

**/\/\**

That night, Sam was so scared he didn't want to sleep. Dean sat with him, comforting him and reassuring him that he wasn't going anywhere, and if Jason tried something then his big brother would be there to protect him. It took until almost eleven o'clock for Sam to finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, and another half an hour for Dean to finally let sleep take him.

**Again, sorry for the length, but the next chappie will be longer and with loads more actions XD R&R please?**


	20. Nice To See You, Can I Kill You Now?

**Finally! Here it is! The thrilling, action-packed, chatper that has you on the edge of your seat and leaves you breathless! **

**...**

**Okay, maybe I exaggerate my writing abilities and my abilities to create suspense and drama. The one thing I know how to do is torture my characters, and there's definitely some of that in Chapter 20 XD**

**Enjoy! Thanks for all the reviews, I love and appreciate them all! Hugs and cookies to you!**

The night was turning into morning when the lock clicked open. A minute past midnight. Jason walked in quietly, keeping his footsteps as soft as he could on the hard wooden floor. A smile graced his lips as his luck. So far nothing had gone wrong. No one had seen him, he hadn't made a sound, and the people asleep inside had no idea of what he was going to do. It was almost too easy.

Leaving the door slightly open, Jason walked through the motel room, checking everywhere with open doors. He saw a man asleep in a chair by the window, his head resting against the glass. Jason guessed he was either the father of Dean, or the guy Mary had been seeing when she left for 'work'. Or both.

He moved on, checking another room. He saw Mary inside, asleep. She was tossing, turning, a look of pain on her face. Jason walked quietly away and kept searching for the two he wanted.

This was the one he was looking for. On a chair by the bed was the older boy, Dean, curled up, his hands in fists. On the bed lay Sam, his body shaking slightly and mumbling something in his sleep. Jason grinned at his luck and crept in, one hand creeping to the Taser in his pocket. He knelt beside Sam and put a hand over his mouth.

Sam woke suddenly, unable to breathe through his mouth, an uncomfortable pressure over it. He started to panic, one hand unconsciously sliding to grab the knife under his pillow. His eyes met the grinning face above, and he wanted to throw up.  
"Shh," Jason whispered softly.  
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, then blinked. No, he was still there. His fingers closed over the knife handle and, surprisingly fast, he swung upwards.

Jason knocked the knife from his hand easily, sending it skidding across the floor. Dean mumbled something and rolled over. Sam switched his terrified gaze from Jason to Dean, desperately hoping his older brother would wake up.

Jason ignored the older boy, and instead, pulled the Taser from his pocket. Sam stared at it. The man smirked, and started to turn to face Dean. Both stared when they saw he wasn't in the chair anymore.  
"You son of a bitch," Dean snarled from behind, Sam's knife in hand. He slashed downwards, and Jason rolled just in time. His hand left Sam's mouth and the kid scrambled backwards against the wall.

Dean growled lowly, and Jason got to his feet with a grin. He still held the Taser in his hand. He pointed it at Sam who could only stare at it in terror, tears rolling down his face silently, his body trembling.  
"You might want to drop that knife," Jason chuckled "Or I'll Taser the living daylights out of Sam."  
Dean glared, then glanced at Sam. He licked his lips, uncertain. When Jason jerked the Taser forward a little, Dean hastily put the knife down.  
"Okay, okay," he said, hatred gleaming in his eyes. He stood up again, hands in the air.

The man gestured for Dean to move closer and he did so, unwillingly. Sam whimpered, but said nothing. Dean locked eyes with him, the strong-willed spark of resistance burning within them. It reassured Sam a little, telling him silently that as long as Dean was alive, he would continue to fight for his little brother.

Jason kept the Taser pointed at Sam, and ordered him to get up. The thirteen-year-old shook, unable to stand for fear. Jason growled, swinging the electric weapon around and aiming it right at Dean's chest. Sam stared.  
"Move it," Jason snarled, jerking the Taser menacingly. Sam glanced at Dean, before shakily sliding off the bed. He got to his feet and stood before Jason and Dean. The look of praise in Dean's eyes was enough to strengthen Sam for a moment.

A sharp gesture towards the door made Sam stumble forwards, not wanting to get Dean hurt by this monster. Dean followed behind calmly, although inside his anger grew at how terrified his brother was. Instead of lashing out, he reined in his temper and forced a blank, calm look onto his face as he stepped through the door after Sam, Jason behind him.

In the hallway, Sam glanced back. Dean was looking at him, and a smile crept across his lips. Sam bit his lip when he saw Jason behind him, Taser pointed at Dean's back. He quickly faced forwards again.  
"Head for the door," Jason's voice came cool and smooth. A shiver shot down Sam's spine as he did as he was told, walking quietly towards the door.

Thoughts were racing through his mind, all swirling around and crowding for space. He was terrified of what Jason was going to do with Dean, and with him as well. His thoughts turned to what Jason had done to him before, and images flashed up in his mind. Dean being stabbed through the shoulder saving him. Dean having his hand cut off, having his neck sliced open in the terrible nightmares he'd suffered. The final one was what made him stumble in fear. Dean, his hands tied tightly behind his head with wire, blood running down his arms, gagged, deep cuts all over his body. A look of defeat in his eyes.

Jason hissed angrily as Sam tripped and caught himself on the front door. There was a soft thump, and then silence as Sam held his breath, his eyes shut tightly.

For a minute there was nothing. Jason glanced around and sighed in relief; the man was still asleep in the chair. Jason growled angrily and faced Sam.  
"You pull a stunt like that again, and I'll rip the both of you apart with my bare hands," he whispered harshly, making Sam flinch.

"Outside," Jason whispered harshly. Sam opened his eyes and pushed open the door, revealing the car park. The Impala was sat there, gleaming under the streetlights a little way down the road. On the other side of the parking lot a dirty white van was parked, the license plate removed. A shiver ran through Sam's body. Leaning against the van was another man, tattooed all over and extremely muscular. Dean stared at him, wondering if he could take him on.

Just then, a small thump from behind them made the three turn. In an instant, and before Sam could see what had made the noise, Jason shoved the Taser into his pocket and grabbed Sam and Dean, an arm around their necks. Sam coughed, the strong arm choking him. Dean struggled for a moment, but when the grip around his neck tightened, he stopped. The two boys glanced at each other. Then they looked forward and saw who had made Jason grab them.

The pistol was levelled at Jason's chest. Held in two hands, dead straight and no shake. Jason chuckled.  
"Nice to see you again," Jason said.  
"Not really. Now shut up and let go of the boys," Mary said, her voice so low and threatening that Sam almost didn't recognise it. There was something there, something feral and angry, that made Sam wonder about his mother.

John stood up from the chair, shotgun in hand. He glared angrily at Jason, cocking the shotgun. Jason ignored him for the most part, after giving him a dirty look. Dean winked at his dad, and John nodded slightly.

"Why would I do that?"  
"Because if you don't you're going to have a couple of holes in your chest," Mary replied darkly.  
"You aren't going to shoot me Mary," Jason laughed. He tightened his hold for a moment, forcing Sam to cough as air was given restricted access to his lungs. A moment later Jason relaxed and Sam could breathe again. Dean's expression was positively murderous.

"Wanna bet?"  
"Oh Mary. I always knew you didn't give a shit about me. I just didn't realise you hated me this much," Jason said with a mock sigh.  
"What the hell are you talking about? I loved you. Until I found out what you were doing to Sam, that is. How could you do that?" Mary asked, her voice starting to shake. Sam wasn't sure if it was from horror, shock or anger.  
"Right. You loved me. That's why you were disappearing all the time. You should have just told me and gotten the split over with. Instead you had to go and fuck some other guy because I wasn't good enough for you," Jason snarled, glaring at John.  
Mary looked stunned, "What? You think I was having an affair? I told you I was working!"  
"Likely story," Jason growled.

Mary's stunned look faded quickly and was replaced with pure, cold hatred. Jason laughed.  
"That's why I hurt Sam, you idiot woman," he said, jerking the arm he had around Sam's neck. The kid grabbed Jason's arm as his air was cut off completely for a moment. It returned almost instantly, but he was left gasping.  
"What?"  
"I hurt Sam, because you hurt me. That's what you get for trying to hide it from me. You hid your transgressions against me, and I hid my transgressions against Sam. It really was too easy."  
"Transgressions. That's a big word for you," Dean smirked. Jason tightened his grip. Dean coughed.

There was a flurry of movement, so fast Sam would have missed it had he not been part of the action. Jason let go of Dean and pushed backwards, past him and out the door. John raised the shotgun higher and aimed directly for Jason's head. Jason let go of Sam for an instant, pushing him to the side and switching arms. Now Sam was trapped under Jason's left arm, which left his right hand free to quickly reach down and pull out the handgun from his back pocket and aim it at Mary. He pulled Sam so that he was in front of him, effectively blocking any shot to his body. He grinned.

Outside, Dean jumped for Jason's back, thanking God for Jason's stupidity. He didn't count on being grabbed from behind by the man from the van. Dean struggled in the man's grip, kicking and growling savagely. The tattooed man simply smirked.

Jason chuckled, jerking the arm around Sam's neck. The boy swallowed. Mary swore violently, and the pistol in her hands started to waver when she found herself pointing it at Sam's head, which was now in front of Jason's chest.  
"I'm going to kill you," she vowed.  
"Oh really? I think, if you want to keep Sam alive, then you aren't going to shoot," Jason said, flipping the gun and aiming it at Sam. He pressed the muzzle of the handgun into the boy's head. Sam flinched. Mary stared.  
"Now, are you going to put that gun down and let Sam live, or are you going to shoot? If you shoot, I think my finger might just slip with my dying muscle spasms. Are you willing to take that risk?" Jason taunted.  
Mary looked at her son. He stared back, the tears now drying on his face, terror spread across his features. Mary swallowed, and lowered the gun.

"Good choice," Jason said, starting to back out the door "You know what? I may just let Sam keep his life now. You see, good deeds do have their rewards."  
Jason stepped outside, dragging Sam with him. He moved the gun to aim at Mary again. Dan, still holding a struggling Dean, moved with him, and both Mary and John stared in shock when they saw him. John looked absolutely livid.  
"Nice seeing you. Maybe I'll pop by again, drop Sam off," Jason smirked.

A gunshot sounded in the dark, lonely street.

**Ohmahgawdz, who dies? I know, I'm so evil to you poor readers! _Another_ cliffie! But the next chapter will most definitely be up very soon, so don't worry! You won't have to wait long XD Anyway, you should all know who it is without me having to write it... :P**


	21. Everything Will Be Okay Now

**Here you have it, the final chapter. I hope you've liked the story! I plan to rewrite some of the chapters, so stay tuned for that, and there will be a sequel too. Hope you've enjoyed the story and will stick with me for the sequel and rewrite :D**

**Jill, thank you so much for your review. These are the reviews that help me write and get better, thank you :D As I said earlier, I'm going to rewrite some of the chapters, and you're advice will most definately be taken on board when I'm rewriting. Thanks again! Hugs and cookies to you, and everyone who has reviewed this story!**

No one moved. The echo of the shot faded around them as Jason stared at Mary, and Mary stared at Jason. For that split second, they were alone, simply staring each other down in cold hatred.

And then the blood started to soak into the black fabric, creating an ever-growing darker stain on the shirt.

Jason's arm fell away from Sam's neck, and he fell to his knees. Sam cried out, his eyes shut and he stumbled sideways. Jason touched the bullet hole in his shoulder, and he winced slightly. Dan stared in surprise, his grip loosening on Dean. The teenager struggled from the man's grip, kicking him in the groin and sending him to the ground before running to Sam.

Mary's pistol was held straight out, shaking only slightly. John moved towards Dan, shotgun still raised and now aimed at the tattooed man. Mary stepped up to Jason, looking down.

"You shot me," Jason said, as if he couldn't quite believe it. He looked up at her strangely.  
"I wasn't going to let you hurt Sam," Mary said.  
Jason glanced back at the wound in his shoulder and frowned.

Before anyone could move, Jason's arm swung upwards, handgun pointed straight at Sam and Dean a few paces away. Mary aimed her pistol at his head, the muzzle wavering only millimetres from his forehead. Dean saw and moved quickly to be in front of Sam.

Two more shots rang out in quick succession. Dean felt something whistle past his ear, and watched as Jason collapsed, blood pouring from the small bullet wound in his forehead. His eyes were blank and cold, his body lifeless. He fell backwards, his head hitting the pavement with a thud. Sam whimpered in terror. Mary stared at the body of her husband, blood no longer pumping from the hole.

She whipped around to see if Jason had hit Sam or Dean.  
"Dean? Dean, you okay?" John asked from where he was standing, still pointing the shotgun at Dan.  
"I'm fine. He missed," the teenager replied shakily.  
Sam mumbled from behind Dean, and the older brother turned to calm him. He hugged him, running a hand through his hair.  
"I can promise you now Sam, he isn't coming back. Ever, ever again. He's gone for good this time. He's dead," Dean said quietly.  
Sam held onto Dean tightly, his body shaking with fear and tears.

Mary glanced at John, who lookedover to meet her gaze. They exchanged a look that held so much. Pain, fear, relief, hatred, anger, happiness, grief, loss; all was passed between the two former partners in a split second.

And then from down the street, police sirens began to wail, the cars racing up towards them.

Mary sighed, watching the muscular man being pushed into a police car, handcuffed. She shook her head and walked towards her sons. She'd managed to avoid giving away too much information to the cops, but she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and leave the hellhole behind. Sam and Dean were sat on the doorstep of the flat, still holding onto each other. The tears had stopped, but Sam was still trembling. Dean glanced at her as she knelt in front of them. The look said it all. The wary trust was obvious in his eyes. She knew it would still be a long time before Sam or Dean ever trusted her or John fully, but she also knew that the day would come. Eventually.

"Sam?" she asked softly, keeping her eyes on Dean. He merely blinked.  
Sam shot her a quick look, fear clouding his eyes. She smiled.  
"Hey Sam. It's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay," she whispered.  
She ran a hand through his hair, and he flinched at her touch. She drew back, biting her lip. Yes, it would take a long time, but the day would come when they would be able to trust again. She was sure of it.

"Why did you shoot him? He could have shot Sam," Dean said quietly.  
Mary looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he'd spoken to her; at least, without pure hatred shaping his voice.  
"It was the only thing I could do. If I hadn't shot him, he would have gotten away with Sam. I knew the risks, but the knowledge of what he would do to Sam if he got away was far worse," she said.  
Dean nodded, "I'm not saying you did the wrong thing. I guess I was just..."  
He trailed off and looked back to Sam. The kid was leaning against his chest, still shaking. Mary swallowed and gave Dean a small smile.  
"I know."

**/\/\**

John watched the three from a distance. The cop he had just been talking to walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He smiled a little when he saw Dean talking to Mary. From the look on her face, he wasn't speaking with animosity or hate. It was a step in the right direction. He just hoped that they would all keep stepping in the right direction, and that none of the past few weeks would come back to haunt them. He knew it would take a while for Sam to recover, and a while for Dean to trust his father again, but time was what they needed. Eventually, John knew, things would go back to normal.


	22. The Sequel

**Hey everyone! The chapters have been edited, mainly the last ones for a plot change, so be sure to check that out! The sequel, Learning to Love a Liar, will be coming soon. I'm focusing on my SGA story, Obsession, but that'll be finished soon and once it is I'll get to work on the sequel!**

**It's been fun writing this, hope you had fun reading it, and hope you stick around for the next one! Reviews are always loved on all stories, and hugs to you all!**


End file.
